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diff --git a/16003-h/16003-h.htm b/16003-h/16003-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d16a9ae --- /dev/null +++ b/16003-h/16003-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,32881 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Black Baronet; by William Carleton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of +Ballytrain, by William Carleton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain + The Works of William Carleton, Volume One + +Author: William Carleton + +Illustrator: M. L. Flanery + +Release Date: June 7, 2005 [EBook #16003] +Last Updated: March 1, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK BARONET *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE BLACK BARONET; + </h1> + <h3> + OR, THE CHRONICLES OF BALLYTRAIN. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By William Carleton + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="spines (42K)" src="images/spines.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page409.jpg" alt="Frontispiece " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="Titlepage " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a> <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I.</a> A Mail-coach by + Night, and a Bit of Moonshine. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> + CHAPTER II. </a> The Town and its Inhabitants. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.</a> Pauden Gair's Receipt + how to make a Bad Dinner a Good One <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> + CHAPTER IV.</a> An Anonymous Letter <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.</a> Sir Thomas Gourlay + fails in unmasking the Stranger <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> + CHAPTER VI.</a> Extraordinary Scene between Fenton and the + Stranger. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> The + Baronet attempts by Falsehood <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> + CHAPTER VIII.</a> The Fortune-Teller—An Equivocal + Prediction. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.</a> + Candor and Dissimulation <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.</a> + A Family Dialogue—and a Secret nearly Discovered. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.</a> The Stranger's Visit + to Father MacMalum. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.</a> + Crackenfudge Outwitted by Fenton <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> + CHAPTER XIII.</a> The Stranger's Second Visit to Father + M'Mahon <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.</a> + Crackenfudge put upon a Wrong Scent <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> + CHAPTER XV.</a> Interview between Lady Gourlay and the + Stranger <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.</a> + Conception and Perpetration of a Diabolical Plot against Fenton. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.</a> A Scene in Jemmy + Trailcudgel's <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII.</a> + Dunphy visits the County Wicklow <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> + CHAPTER XIX.</a> Interview between Trailcudgel and the + Stranger <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX.</a> + Interview between Lords Cullamore, Dunroe, and Lady Emily <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI.</a> A Spy Rewarded <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII.</a> Lucy at + Summerfield Cottage. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII.</a> + A Lunch in Summerfield Cottage. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> + CHAPTER XXIV. </a> An Irish Watchhouse in the time of the + “Charlies.” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV.</a> + The Police Office <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI.</a> + The Priest Returns Sir Thomas's Money and Pistols <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII.</a> Lucy calls upon + Lady Gourlay, where she meets her Lover <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII.</a> Innocence and + Affection overcome by Fraud and Hypocrisy <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX.</a> Lord Dunroe's + Affection for his Father <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER + XXX.</a> A Courtship on Novel Principles. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI.</a> The Priest goes into + Corbet's House very like a Thief <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> + CHAPTER XXXII.</a> Discovery of the Baronet's Son <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> The Priest + asks for a Loan of Fifty Guineas <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> + CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> Young Gourlay's Affectionate Interview + with His Father <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXV.</a> + Lucy's Vain but Affecting Expostulation with her Father <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXVI.</a> Contains a Variety + of Matters <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVII.</a> + Dandy's Visit to Summerfield Cottage <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0037"> + CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a> An Unpleasant Disclosure to Dunroe + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> CHAPTER XXXIX.</a> + Fenton Recovered—The Mad-House <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0038"> + CHAPTER XL.</a> Lady Gourlay sees her Son. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XLI.</a> Denouement. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + List of Illustrations + </h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> Frontispiece </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> Titlepage </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> Page 329— A Pair of Enormous Legs, With + Spurs on Them </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0004"> Page 350— How Will You Be Prepared to + Render an Account </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0005"> Page 409— He Stooped and Wildly Kissed + Her Now Passive Lips </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0006"> Page 446— Pistols, Which he Instantly + Cocked, and Held Ready </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0007"> Page 584— A Faint Smile Seemed to Light + up his Face </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE. + </h2> + <p> + The incidents upon which this book is founded seem to be extraordinary and + startling, but they are true; for, as Byron says, and as we all know, + “Truth is strange—stranger than Fiction.” Mr. West, brother to the + late member from Dublin, communicated them to me exactly as they occurred, + and precisely as he communicated them, have I given them to the reader, at + least, as far as I can depend upon my memory. With respect, however, to + his facts, they related only to the family which is shadowed forth under + the imaginary name of Gourlay; those connected with the aristocratic house + of Cullamore, I had from another source, and they are equally authentic. + The Lord Dunroe, son to the Earl of Cullamore, is not many years dead, and + there are thousands still living, who can bear testimony to the life of + profligacy and extravagance, which, to the very last day of his existence, + he persisted in leading. That his father was obliged to get an act of + Parliament passed to legitimize his children, is a fact also pretty well + known to many. + </p> + <p> + At first, I had some notion of writing a distinct story upon each class of + events, but, upon more mature consideration, I thought it better to + construct such a one as would enable me to work them both up into the same + narrative; thus contriving that the incidents of the one house should be + connected with those of the other, and the interest of both deepened, not + only by their connection, but their contrast. It is unnecessary to say, + that the prototypes of the families who appear upon the stage in the + novel, were, in point of fact, personally unknown to each other, unless, + probably, by name, inasmuch as they resided in different and distant parts + of the kingdom. They were, however, contemporaneous. Such circumstances, + nevertheless, matter very little to the novelist, who can form for his + characters whatsoever connections, whether matrimonial or otherwise, he + may deem most proper; and of this, he must be considered himself as the + sole, though probably not the best, judge. The name of Red Hall, the + residence of Sir Thomas Gourlay, is purely fictitious, but not the + description of it, which applies very accurately to a magnificent family + mansion not a thousand miles from the thriving little town of Ballygawley. + Since the first appearance, however, of the work, I have accidentally + discovered, from James Frazer's admirable. “Hand-book for Ireland,” the + best and most correct work of the kind ever published, and the only one + that can be relied upon, that there actually is a residence named Red Hall + in my own native county of Tyrone. I mention this, lest the respectable + family to whom it belongs might take offence at my having made it the + ancestral property of such a man as Sir Thomas Gourlay, or the scene of + his crimes and outrages. On this point, I beg to assure them that the + coincidence of the name is purely accidental, and that, when I wrote the + novel, I had not the slightest notion that such a place actually existed. + Some of those coincidences are very odd and curious. For instance, it so + happens that there is at this moment a man named Dunphy actually residing + on Constitution Hill, and engaged in the very same line of life which I + have assigned to one of my principal characters of that name in the novel, + that of a huckster; yet of this circumstance I knew nothing. The titles of + Cullamore and Dunroe are taken from two hills, one greater than the other, + and not far asunder, in my native parish; and I have heard it said, by the + people of that neighborhood, that Sir William Richardson, father to the + late amiable Sir James Richardson Bunbury, when expecting at the period of + the Union to receive a coronet instead of a baronetcy, had made his mind + up to select either one or the other of them as the designation of his + rank. + </p> + <p> + I think I need scarcely assure my readers that old Sam Roberts, the + retired soldier, is drawn from life; and I may add, that I have scarcely + done the fine old fellow and his fine old wife sufficient justice. They + were two of the most amiable and striking originals I ever met. Both are + now dead, but I remember Sam to have been for many years engaged in + teaching the sword exercise in some of the leading schools in and about + Dublin. He ultimately gave this up, however, having been appointed to some + comfortable situation in the then Foundling Hospital, where his Beck died, + and he, poor fellow, did not, I have heard, long survive her. + </p> + <p> + Owing to painful and peculiar circumstances, with which it would be + impertinent to trouble the reader, there were originally only five hundred + copies of this work published. The individual for whom it was originally + written, but who had no more claim upon it than the Shah of Persia, + misrepresented me, or rather calumniated me, so grossly to Messrs. + Saunders & Otley, who published it, that he prevailed upon them to + threaten me with criminal proceedings for having disposed of my own work, + and I accordingly received an attorney's letter, affording me that very + agreeable intimation. Of course they soon found they had been misled, and + that it would have been not only an unparalleled outrage, but a matter + attended with too much danger, and involving too severe a penalty to + proceed in. Little I knew or suspected at the time, however, that the + sinister and unscrupulous delusions which occasioned me and my family so + much trouble, vexation, and embarrassment, were only the foreshadowings of + that pitiable and melancholy malady which not long afterwards occasioned + the unhappy man to be placed apart from society, which, it is to be + feared, he is never likely to rejoin. I allude to those matters, not only + to account for the limited number of the work that was printed, but to + satisfy those London publishers to whom the individual in question so + foully misrepresented me, that my conduct in every transaction I have had + with booksellers has been straightforward, just, and honorable, and that I + can publicly make this assertion, without the slightest apprehension of + being contradicted. That the book was cushioned in this country, I am + fully aware, and this is all I shall say upon that part of the subject. + Indeed it was never properly published at all—never advertised—never + reviewed, and, until now, lay nearly in as much obscurity as if it had + been still in manuscript. A few copies of it got into circulating + libraries, but, in point of fact, it was never placed before the public at + all. What-ever be its merits, however, it is now in the hands of a + gentleman who will do it justice, if it fails, the fault will not at least + be his. + </p> + <p> + My object in writing the book was to exhibit, in contrast, three of the + most powerful passions that can agitate the human heart—I mean love, + ambition, and revenge. To contrive the successive incidents, by which the + respective individuals on whose characters they were to operate should + manifest their influence with adequate motives, and without departing from + actual life and nature, as we observe them in action about us, was a task + which required a very close study of the human mind when placed in + peculiar circumstances. In this case the great struggle was between love + and ambition. By ambition, I do not mean the ambition of the truly great + man, who wishes to associate it with truth and virtue, and whose object + is, in the first place, to gratify it by elevating his country and his + kind; no, but that most hateful species of it which exists in the + contrivance and working out of family arrangements and insane projects for + the aggrandizement of our offspring, under circumstances where we must + know that they cannot be accomplished without wrecking the happiness of + those to whom they are proposed. Such a passion, in its darkest aspect—and + in this I have drawn it—has nothing more in view than the cruel, + selfish and undignified object of acquiring some poor and paltry title or + distinction for a son or daughter, without reference either to inclination + or will, and too frequently in opposition to both. It is like introducing + a system of penal laws into domestic life, and establishing the tyranny of + a moral despot among the affections of the heart. Sometimes, especially in + the case of an only child, this ambition grows to a terrific size, and its + miserable victim acts with all the unconscious violence of a monomaniac. + </p> + <p> + In Sir Thomas Gourlay, the reader will perceive that it became the great + and engrossing object of his life, and that its violence was strong in + proportion to that want of all moral restraint, which resulted from the + creed of an infidel and sceptic. And I may say here, that it was my object + to exhibit occasionally the gloomy agonies and hollow delusions of the + latter, as the hard and melancholy system on which he based his cruel and + unsparing ambition. His character was by far the most difficult to manage. + Love has an object; and, in this case, in the person of Lucy Gourlay it + had a reasonable and a noble one. Revenge has an object; and in the person + of Anthony Corbet, or Dunphy, it also had, according to the unchristian + maxims of life, an unusually strong argument on which to work and sustain + itself. But, as for Sir Thomas Gourlay's mad ambition, I felt that, + considering his sufficiently elevated state of life, I could only + compensate for its want of all rational design, by making him scorn and + reject the laws both civil and religious by which human society is + regulated, and all this because he had blinded his eyes against the traces + of Providence, rather than take his own heart to task for its ambition. + Had he been a Christian, I do not think he could have acted as he did. He + shaped his own creed, however, and consequently, his own destiny. In Lady + Edward Gourlay, I have endeavored to draw such a character as only the + true and obedient Christian can present; and in that of his daughter, a + girl endowed with the highest principles, the best heart, and the purest + sense of honor—a woman who would have been precisely such a + character as Lady Gourlay was, had she lived longer and been subjected to + the same trials. Throughout the whole work, however, I trust that I have + succeeded in the purity and loftiness of the moral, which was to show the + pernicious effects of infidelity and scepticism, striving to sustain and + justify an insane ambition; or, in a word, I endeavored + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To vindicate the ways of God to man.” + </pre> + <p> + A literary friend of mine told me, a few days ago, that the poet Massinger + had selected the same subject for his play of. “A New Way to pay Old + Debts,” the same in which Sir Giles Overreach is the prominent character. + I ought to feel ashamed to say, as I did say, in reply to this, that I + never read the play alluded to, nor a single line of Massinger's works; + neither have I ever seen Sir Giles Overreach even upon the stage. If, + then, there should appear any resemblance in the scope or conduct of the + play or novel, or in the character of Sir Thomas Gourlay and Overreach, I + cannot be charged either with theft or imitation, as I am utterly ignorant + of the play and of the character of Sir Giles Overreach alluded to. + </p> + <p> + I fear I have dwelt much too long on this subject, and I shall therefore + close it by a short anecdote. + </p> + <p> + Some months ago I chanced to read a work—I think by an American + writer—called, as well as I can recollect, “The Reminiscences of a + late Physician.” I felt curious to read the book, simply because I thought + that the man who could, after, “The Diary of a late Physician,” come out + with a production so named, must possess at the least either very great + genius or the most astounding assurance. Well, I went on perusing the + work, and found almost at once that it was what is called a catchpenny, + and depended altogether, for its success, upon the fame and reputation of + its predecessor of nearly the same name. I saw the trick at once, and + bitterly regretted that I, in common I suppose with others, had been taken + in and bit. Judge of my astonishment, however, when, as I proceeded to + read the description of an American lunatic asylum, I found it to be <i>literatim + et verbatim</i> taken—stolen—pirated—sentence by + sentence and page by page, from my own description of one in the third + volume of the first edition of this book, and which I myself took from + close observation, when, some years ago, accompanied by Dr. White, I was + searching in the Grangegorman Lunatic Asylum and in Swift's for a case of + madness arising from disappointment in love. I was then writing. “Jane + Sinclair,” and to the honor of the sex, I have to confess that in neither + of those establishments, nor any others either in or about Dublin, could I + find such a case. Here, however, in the Yankee's book, there were neither + inverted commas, nor the slightest acknowledgment of the source from which + the unprincipled felon had stolen it. + </p> + <p> + With respect to mad-houses, especially as they were conducted up until + within the last thirty years, I must say with truth, that if every fact + originating in craft, avarice, oppression, and the most unscrupulous + ambition for family wealth and hereditary rank, were known, such a dark + series of crime and cruelty would come to light as time public mind could + scarcely conceive—nay, as would shock humanity itself. Nor has this + secret system altogether departed from us. It is not long since the police + offices developed some facts rather suspicious, and pretty plainly + impressed with the stamp of the old practice. The Lunatic Commission is + now at work, and I trust it will not confine its investigations merely to + public institutions of that kind, but will, if it possess authority to do + so, strictly and rigidly examine every private asylum for lunatics in the + kingdom. + </p> + <p> + Of one other character, Ginty Cooper, I have a word to say. Any person + acquainted with the brilliant and classical little capital of Cultra, + lying on the confines of Monaghan and Cavan, will not fail to recognize + the remains of grace and beatty, which once characterized that celebrated, + and well-known individual. + </p> + <p> + With respect to the watch-house scene, and that in the police office, + together with the delineation of the. “Old Charlies,” as the guardians of + the night were then called; to which I may add the portraits of the two + magistrates; I can confidently refer to thousands now alive for their + truth. Those matters took place long before our present admirable body of + metropolitan police were established. At that period, the police + magistracies were bestowed, in most cases, from principles by no means in + opposition to the public good, and not, as now, upon gentlemen perfectly + free from party bias, and well qualified for that difficult office by + legal knowledge, honorable feeling, and a strong sense of public duty, + impartial justice, and humanity. + </p> + <p> + W Carleton. + </p> + <p> + (Dublin, October 26, 1857.) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. A Mail-coach by Night, and a Bit of Moonshine. + </h2> + <p> + It has been long observed, that every season sent by the Almighty has its + own peculiar beauties; yet, although this is felt to be universally true—just + as we know the sun shines, or that we cannot breathe without air—still + we are all certain that even the same seasons have brief periods when + these beauties are more sensibly felt, and diffuse a more vivid spirit of + enjoyment through all our faculties. Who has not experienced the gentle + and serene influence of a calm spring evening? and perhaps there is not in + the whole circle of the seasons anything more delightful than the + exquisite emotion with which a human heart, not hardened by vice, or + contaminated by intercourse with the world, is softened into tenderness + and a general love for the works of God, by the pure spirit which breathes + of holiness, at the close of a fine evening in the month of March or + April. + </p> + <p> + The season of spring is, in fact, the resurrection of nature to life and + happiness. Who does not remember the delight with which, in early youth, + when existence is a living poem, and all our emotions sanctify the + spirit-like inspiration—the delight, we say, with which our eye + rested upon a primrose or a daisy for the first time? And how many a long + and anxious look have we ourselves given at the peak of Knockmany, morning + after morning, that we might be able to announce, with an exulting heart, + the gratifying and glorious fact, that the snow had disappeared from it—because + we knew that then spring must have come! And that universal song of the + lark, which fills the air with music; how can we forget the bounding joy + with which our young heart drank it in as we danced in ecstacy across the + fields? Spring, in fact, is the season dearest to the recollection of man, + inasmuch as it is associated with all that is pure, and innocent, and + beautiful, in the transient annals of his early life. There is always a + mournful and pathetic spirit mingled with our remembrances of it, which + resembles the sorrow that we feel for some beloved individual whom death + withdrew from our affections at that period of existence when youth had + nearly completed its allotted limits, and the promising manifestations of + all that was virtuous and good were filling the parental hearts with the + happy hopes which futurity held out to them. As the heart, we repeat, of + such a parent goes back to brood over the beloved memory of the early + lost, so do our recollections go back, with mingled love and sorrow, to + the tender associations of spring, which may, indeed, be said to perish + and pass away in its youth. + </p> + <p> + These reflections have been occasioned, first, by the fact that its memory + and associations are inexpressibly dear to ourselves; and, secondly, + because it is toward the close of this brief but beautiful period of the + year that our chronicles date their commencement. + </p> + <p> + One evening, in the last week of April, a coach called the “Fly” stopped + to change horses at a small village in a certain part of Ireland, which, + for the present, shall be nameless. The sun had just sunk behind the + western hills; but those mild gleams which characterize his setting at the + close of April, had communicated to the clouds that peculiarly soft and + golden tint, on which the eye loves to rest, but from which its light was + now gradually fading. When fresh horses had been put to, a stranger, who + had previously seen two large trunks secured on the top, in a few minutes + took his place beside the guard, and the coach proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “Guard,” he inquired, after they had gone a couple of miles from the + village, “I am quite ignorant of the age of the moon. When shall we have + moonlight?” + </p> + <p> + “Not till it's far in the night, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The coach passes through the town of Ballytrain, does it not?” + </p> + <p> + “It does, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “At what hour do we arrive there?” + </p> + <p> + “About half-past three in the morning sir.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger made no reply, but cast his eyes over the aspect of the + surrounding country. + </p> + <p> + The night was calm, warm, and balmy. In the west, where the sun had gone + down, there could still be noticed the faint traces of that subdued + splendor with which he sets in spring. The stars were up, and the whole + character of the sky and atmosphere was full of warmth, and softness, and + hope. As the eye stretched across a country that seemed to be rich and + well cultivated, it felt that dream-like charm of dim romance, which + visible darkness throws over the face of nature, and which invests her + groves, her lordly mansions, her rich campaigns, and her white + farm-houses, with a beauty that resembles the imagery of some delicious + dream, more than the realities of natural scenery. + </p> + <p> + On passing along, they could observe the careless-looking farmer driving + home his cows to be milked and put up for the night; whilst, further on, + they passed half-a-dozen cars returning home, some empty and some loaded, + from a neighboring fair or market, their drivers in high conversation—a + portion of them in friendship, some in enmity, and in general all equally + disposed, in consequence of their previous libations, to either one or the + other. Here they meet a solitary traveler, fatigued and careworn, carrying + a bundle slung over his shoulder on the point of a stick, plodding his + weary way to the next village. Anon they were passed by a couple of + gentlemen-farmers or country squires, proceeding at a brisk trot upon + their stout cobs or bits of half-blood, as the case might be; and, by and + by, a spanking gig shoots rapidly ahead of them, driven by a smart-looking + servant in murrey-colored livery, who looks back with a sneer of contempt + as he wheels round a corner, and leaves the plebeian vehicle far behind + him. + </p> + <p> + As for the stranger, he took little notice of those whom they met, be + their rank of position in life what it might; his eye was seldom off the + country on each side of him as they went along. It is true, when they + passed a village or small market-town, he glanced into the houses as if + anxious to ascertain the habits and comforts of the humbler classes. + Sometimes he could catch a glimpse of them sitting around a basket of + potatoes and salt, their miserable-looking faces lit by the dim light of a + rush-candle into the ghastly paleness of spectres. Again, he could catch + glimpses of greater happiness; and if, on the one hand, the symptoms of + poverty and distress were visible, on the other there was the jovial + comfort of the wealthy farmer's house, with the loud laughter of its + contented inmates. Nor must we omit the songs which streamed across the + fields, in the calm stillness of the hour, intimating that they who sang + them were in possession, at all events, of light, if not of happy hearts. + </p> + <p> + As the night advanced, however, all these sounds began gradually to die + away. Nature and labor required the refreshment of rest, and, as the coach + proceeded at its steady pace, the varied evidences of waking life became + few and far between. One after another the lights, both near and at a + distance, disappeared. The roads became silent and solitary, and the + villages, as they passed through them, were sunk in repose, unless, + perhaps, where some sorrowing family were kept awake by the watchings that + were necessary at the bed of sickness or death, as was evident by the + melancholy steadiness of the lights, or the slow, cautious motion by which + they glided from one apartment to another. + </p> + <p> + The moon had now been for some time up, and the coach had just crossed a + bridge that was known to be exactly sixteen miles from the town of which + the stranger had made inquiries. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said the latter, addressing the guard, “we are about sixteen + miles from Ballytrain.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to know the neighborhood, sir,” replied the guard. + </p> + <p> + “I have asked you a question, sir,” replied the other, somewhat sternly, + “and, instead of answering it, you ask me another.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” replied the guard, smiling, “it's the custom of + the country. Yes, sir, we're exactly sixteen miles from Ballytrain—that + bridge is the mark. It's a fine country, sir, from this to that—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, my good fellow,” replied the stranger, “I ask it as a particular + favor that you will not open your lips to me until we reach the town, + unless I ask you a question. On that condition I will give you a + half-a-crown when we get there.” + </p> + <p> + The fellow put his hand to his lips, to hint that he was mute, and nodded, + but spoke not a word, and the coach proceeded in silence. + </p> + <p> + To those who have a temperament fraught with poetry or feeling, there can + be little doubt that to pass, of a calm, delightful spring night, under a + clear, starry sky, and a bright moon, through a country eminently + picturesque and beautiful, must be one of those enjoyments which fill the + heart with a memory that lasts forever. But when we suppose that a person, + whose soul is tenderly alive to the influence of local affections, and, + who, when absent, has brooded in sorrow over the memory of his native + hills and valleys, his lakes and mountains—the rivers, where he + hunted the otter and snared the trout, and who has never revisited them, + even in his dreams, without such strong emotions as caused him to wake + with his eyelashes steeped in tears—when such a person, full of + enthusiastic affection and a strong imagination, returns to his native + place after a long absence, under the peculiar circumstances which we are + describing, we need not feel surprised that the heart of the stranger was + filled with such a conflicting tumult of feelings and recollections as it + is utterly impossible to portray. + </p> + <p> + From the moment the coach passed the bridge we have alluded to, every + hill, and residence, and river, and lake, and meadow, was familiar to him, + and he felt such an individual love and affection for them, as if they had + been capable of welcoming and feeling the presence of the light-hearted + boy, whom they had so often made happy. + </p> + <p> + In the gairish eye of day, the contemplation of this exquisite landscape + would have been neither so affecting to the heart, nor so beautiful to the + eye. He, the stranger, had not seen it for years, except in his dreams, + and now he saw it in reality, invested with that ideal beauty in which + fancy had adorned it in those visions of the night. The river, as it + gleamed dimly, according as it was lit by the light of the moon, and the + lake, as it shone with pale but visionary beauty, possessed an interest + which the light of day would never have given them. The light, too, which + lay on the sleeping groves, and made the solitary church spires, as they + went along, visible, in dim, but distant beauty, and the clear outlines of + his own mountains, unchanged and unchangeable—all, all crowded from + the force of the recollections with which they were associated, upon his + heart, and he laid himself back, and, for some minutes, wept tears that + were at once both sweet and bitter. + </p> + <p> + In proportion as they advanced toward the town of Ballytrain, the stranger + imagined that the moon shed a diviner radiance over the surrounding + country; but this impression was occasioned by the fact that its aspect + was becoming, every mile they proceeded, better and better known to him. + At length they came to a long but gradual elevation in the road, and the + stranger knew that, on reaching its eminence, he could command a distinct + view of the magnificent valley on which his native parish lay. He begged + of the coachman to stop for half a minute, and the latter did so. The + scene was indeed unrivalled. All that constitutes a rich and cultivated + country, with bold mountain scenery in the distance, lay stretched before + him. To the right wound, in dim but silver-like beauty, a fine river, + which was lost to the eye for a considerable distance in the wood of + Gallagh. To the eye of the stranger, every scene and locality was distinct + beyond belief, simply because they were lit up, not only by the pale light + of the moon, but by the purer and stronger light of his own early + affections and memories. + </p> + <p> + Now it was, indeed, that his eye caught in, at a glance, all those places + and objects that had held their ground so strongly and firmly in his + heart. The moon, though sinking, was brilliant, and the cloudless expanse + of heaven seemed to reflect her light, whilst, at the same time, the + shadows that projected from the trees, houses, and other elevated objects, + were dark and distinct in proportion to the flood of mild effulgence which + poured down upon them from the firmament. Let not our readers hesitate to + believe us when we say, that the heart of the stranger felt touched with a + kind of melancholy happiness as he passed through their very shadows—proceeding, + as they did, from objects that he had looked upon as the friends of his + youth, before life had opened to him the dark and blotted pages of + suffering and sorrow. There, dimly shining to the right below him, was the + transparent river in which he had taken many a truant plunge, and a little + further on he could see without difficulty the white cascade tumbling down + the precipice, and mark its dim scintillations, that looked, under the + light of the moon, like masses of shivered ice, were it not that such a + notion was contradicted by the soft dash and continuous murmur of its + waters. + </p> + <p> + But where was the gray mill, and the large white dwelling of the miller? + and that new-looking mansion on the elevation—it was not there in + his time, nor several others that he saw around him; and, hold—what + sacrilege is this? The coach is not upon the old road—not on that + with every turn and winding of which the light foot of his boyhood was so + familiar! What, too! the school-house down—its very foundations + razed—its light-hearted pupils, some dead, others dispersed, its + master in the dust, and its din, bustle, and monotonous murmur—all + banished and gone, like the pageantry of a dream. Such, however, is life; + and he who, on returning to his birthplace after an absence of many years, + expects to find either the country or its inhabitants as he left them, + will experience, in its most painful sense, the bitterness of + disappointment. Let every such individual prepare himself for the + consequences of death, change, and desolation. + </p> + <p> + At length the coach drove into Ballytrain, and, in a few minutes, the + passengers found themselves opposite to the sign of the Mitre, which swung + over the door of the principal inn of that remarkable town. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the guard, addressing the stranger, “I think I have kept my + word.” + </p> + <p> + The latter, without making any reply, dropped five shillings into his + hand; but, in the course of a few minutes—for the coach changed + horses there—he desired him to call the waiter or landlord, or any + one to whom he could intrust his trunks until morning. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to stop in the 'Mithre,' sir, of course,” said the guard, + inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + The traveler nodded assent, and, having seen his luggage taken into the + inn, and looking, for a moment, at the town, proceeded along the shadowy + side of the main street, and, instead of seeking his bed, had, in a short + time, altogether vanished, and in a manner that was certainly mysterious, + nor did he make his appearance again until noon on the following day. + </p> + <p> + It may be as well to state here that he was a man of about thirty, + somewhat above the middle size, and, although not clumsy, yet, on being + closely scanned, he appeared beyond question to be very compact, closely + knit, well-proportioned, and muscular. Of his dress, however, we must say, + that it was somewhat difficult to define, or rather to infer from it + whether he was a gentleman or not, or to what rank or station of life he + belonged. His hair was black and curled; his features regular; and his + mouth and nose particularly aristocratic; but that which constituted the + most striking feature of his face was a pair of black eyes, which kindled + or became mellow according to the emotions by which he happened to be + influenced. + </p> + <p> + “My good lad,” said he to “Boots,” after his return, “Will you send me the + landlord?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, sir,” replied the other, “he's not at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, have the goodness to send me the waiter.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, sir,” replied the monkey, leaving the room with an evident + feeling of confident alacrity. + </p> + <p> + Almost immediately a good-looking girl, with Irish features, brown hair, + and pretty blue eyes, presented herself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” she said, in an interrogative tone. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said the stranger, “I believe it is impossible to come at any + member of this establishment; I wish to see the waiter.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm the waiter, sir,” she replied, with an unconscious face. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce you are!” he exclaimed; “however,” he added, recovering + himself, “I cannot possibly wish for a better. It is very likely that I + may stay with you for some time—perhaps a few months. Will you see + now that a room and bed are prepared for me, and that my trunks are put + into my own apartment? Get a fire into my sitting-room and bedchamber. Let + my bed be well aired; and see that everything is done cleanly and + comfortably, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartinly, sir, an' I hope we won't lave you much to complain of. As for + the sheets, wait till you try them. The wild myrtles of Drumgau, beyant + the demesne 'isliout, is foulded in them; an' if the smell of them won't + make you think yourself in Paradise, 'tisn't my fault.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger, on looking at her somewhat more closely, saw that she was an + exceedingly neat, tight, clean-looking young woman, fair and youthful. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been long in the capacity of waiter, here.” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” she replied; “about six months.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you never keep male waiters in this establishment,” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir; Paudeen Gair and I generally act week about. This is my + week, sir, an' he's at the plough.” + </p> + <p> + “And where have you been at service before you came here, my good girl?” + </p> + <p> + “In Sir Thomas Gourlay's, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger could not prevent himself from starting. + </p> + <p> + “In Sir Thomas Gourlay's!” he exclaimed. “And pray in what capacity were + you there?” + </p> + <p> + “I was own maid to Miss Gourlay, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “To Miss Gourlay! and how did you come to leave your situation with her?” + </p> + <p> + “When I find you have a right to ask, sir,” she replied, “I will tell you; + but not till then.” + </p> + <p> + “I stand reproved, my good girl,” he said; “I have indeed no right to + enter into such inquiries; but I trust I have for those that are more to + the purpose. What have you for dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Fish, flesh, and fowl, sir,” she replied, with a peculiar smile, “and a + fine fat buck from the deer-park.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” said he, “that really promises well—indeed it is more + than I expected—you had no quarrel, I hope, at parting? I beg your + pardon—a fat buck, you say. Come, I will have a slice of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” she replied; “what else would you wish?” + </p> + <p> + “To know, my dear, whether Sir Thomas is as severe upon her as—ahem!—anything + at all you like—I'm not particular—only don't forget a slice + of the buck, out of the haunch, my dear; and, whisper, as you and I are + likely to become better acquainted—all in a civil way, of course—here + is a trifle of earnest, as a proof that, if you be attentive, I shall not + be ungenerous.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she replied, shaking her head, and hesitating; “you're a + sly-looking gentleman—and, if I thought that you had any—” + </p> + <p> + “Design, you would say,” he replied; “no—none, at any rate, that is + improper; it is offered in a spirit of good-will and honor, and in such + you may fairly accept of it. So,” he added, as he dropped the money into + her hand, “Sir Thomas insisted that you should go? Hem!—hem!” + </p> + <p> + The girl started in her turn, and exclaimed, with a good deal of surprise: + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas insisted! How did you come to know that, sir? I tould you no + such thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my dear, you—a—a—hem—did you not say + something to that effect? Perhaps, however,” he added, apprehensive lest + he might have alarmed, or rather excited her suspicions—“perhaps I + was mistaken. I only imagined, I suppose, that you said something to that + effect; but it does not matter—I have no intimacy with the Gourlays, + I assure you—I think that is what you call them—and none at + all with Sir Thomas—is not that his name? Goodby now; I shall take a + walk through the town—how is this you name it? Ballytrain, I think—and + return at five, when I trust you will have dinner ready.” + </p> + <p> + He then put on his hat, and sauntered out, apparently to view the town and + its environs, fully satisfied that, in consequence of his having left it + when a boy, and of the changes which time and travel had wrought in his + appearance, no living individual there could possibly recognize him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. The Town and its Inhabitants. + </h2> + <p> + The town itself contained about six thousand inhabitants, had a church, a + chapel, a meeting-house, and also a place of worship for those who + belonged to the Methodist connection, It was nearly half a mile long, lay + nearly due north and south, and ran up an elevation or slight hill, and + down again on the other side, where it tapered away into a string of + cabins. It is scarcely necessary to say that it contained a main street, + three or four with less pretensions, together with a tribe of those vile + alleys which consist of a double row of beggarly cabins, or huts, facing + each other, and lying so closely, that a tall man might almost stand with + a foot on the threshold of each, or if in the middle, that is half-way + between them, he might, were he so inclined, and without moving to either + side, shake hands with the inhabitants on his right and left. To the left, + as you went up from the north, and nearly adjoining the cathedral church, + which faced you, stood a bishop's palace, behind which lay a magnificent + demesne. At that time, it is but just to say that the chimneys of this + princely residence were never smokeless, nor its saloons silent and + deserted as they are now, and have been for years. No, the din of industry + was then incessant in and about the offices of that palace, and the song + of many a light heart and happy spirit rang sweetly in the valleys, on the + plains and hills, and over the meadows of that beautiful demesne, with its + noble deer-park stretching up to the heathy hills behind it. Many a time, + when a school-boy, have we mounted the demesne wall in question, and + contemplated its meadows, waving under the sunny breeze, together with the + long strings of happy mowers, the harmonious swing of whose scythes, + associated with the cheerful noise of their whetting, caused the very + heart within us to kindle with such a sense of pure and early enjoyment as + does yet, and ever will, constitute a portion of our best and happiest + recollections. + </p> + <p> + At the period of which we write it mattered little whether the prelate who + possessed it resided at home or not. If he did not, his family generally + did; but, at all events, during their absence, or during their residence, + constant employment was given, every working-day in the year, to at least + one hundred happy and contented poor from a neighboring and dependent + village, every one of whom was of the Roman Catholic creed. + </p> + <p> + I have stood, not long ago, upon a beautiful elevation in that demesne, + and, on looking around me, I saw nothing but a deserted and gloomy + country. The happy village was gone—razed to the very foundations—the + demesne was a solitude—the songs of the reapers and mowers had + vanished, as it were, into the recesses of memory, and the magnificent + palace, dull and lonely, lay as if it were situated in some land of the + dead, where human voice or footstep had not been heard for years. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, who had gone out to view the town, found, during that + survey, little of this absence of employment, and its consequent + destitution, to disturb him. Many things, it is true, both in the town and + suburbs, were liable to objection. + </p> + <p> + Abundance there was; but, in too many instances, he could see, at a + glance, that it was accompanied by unclean and slovenly habits, and that + the processes of husbandry and tillage were disfigured by old usages, that + were not only painful to contemplate, but disgraceful to civilization. + </p> + <p> + The stranger was proceeding down the town, when he came in contact with a + ragged, dissipated-looking young man, who had, however, about him the + evidences of having seen better days. The latter touched his hat to him, + and observed, “You seem to be examining our town, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, what is your name?” inquired the stranger, without seeming to + notice the question. + </p> + <p> + “Why, for the present, sir,” he replied, “I beg to insinuate that I am + rather under a cloud; and, if you have no objection, would prefer to + remain anonymous, or to preserve my incognito, as they say, for some time + longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you no alias, by which you may be known?” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably, an alias I have,” replied the other; “for as to passing + through life, in the broad, anonymous sense, without some token to + distinguish you by, the thing, to a man like me, is impossible. I am + consequently known as Frank Fenton, a name I borrowed from a former friend + of mine, an old school-fellow, who, while he lived, was, like myself, a + bit of an original in his way. How do you like our town, sir,” he added, + changing the subject. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen too little of it,” replied the stranger, “to judge. Is this + your native town, Mr. Fenton,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; not my native town,” replied Fenton; “but I have resided here + from hand to mouth long enough to know almost every individual in the + barony at large.” + </p> + <p> + During this dialogue, the stranger eyed Fenton, as he called himself, very + closely; in fact, he watched every feature of his with a degree of + curiosity and doubt that was exceedingly singular. + </p> + <p> + “Have you, sir, been here before.” asked Fenton; “or is this your first + visit?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my first visit,” replied the other; “but it is likely I shall + reside here for some months.” + </p> + <p> + “For the benefit of your health, I presume,” asked modest Frank. + </p> + <p> + “My good friend,” replied the stranger, “I wish to make an observation. It + is possible, I say, that I may remain here for some months; now, pray, + attend, and mark me—whenever you and I chance, on any future + occasion, to meet, it is to be understood between us that you are to + answer me in anything I ask, which you know, and I to answer you in + nothing, unless I wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” he replied, with a low and not ungraceful bow; “that's a + compliment all to the one side, like Clogher.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The proverb is pretty general throughout Tyrone. The town + of Clogher consists of only a single string of houses. +</pre> + <p> + “Very well,” returned the stranger; “I have something to add, in order to + make this arrangement more palatable to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold, sir,” replied the other; “before you proceed further, you must + understand me. I shall pledge myself under no terms—and I care not + what they may be—to answer any question that may throw light upon my + own personal identity, or past history.” + </p> + <p> + “That will not be necessary,” replied the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, sir,” asked Fenton, starting; “do you mean to hint that + you know me?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said the other; “how could I know a man whom I never saw + before? No; it is merely concerning the local history of Ballytrain and + its inhabitants that I am speaking.” + </p> + <p> + There was a slight degree of dry irony, however, on his face, as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the other, “in the mean time, I don't see why I am to comply + with a condition so dictatorially laid down by a person of whom I know + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the truth is,” said our strange friend, “that you are evidently a + lively and intelligent fellow, not badly educated; I think—and, as + it is likely that you have no very direct connection with the inhabitants + of the town and surrounding country, I take it for granted that, in the + way of mere amusement, you may be able to—” + </p> + <p> + “Hem! I see—to give you all the scandal of the place for miles + about; that is what you would say? and so I can. But suppose a spark of + the gentleman should—should—but come, hang it, that is gone, + hopelessly gone. What is your wish?” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, to see you better clothed. Excuse me—and, if I + offend you, say so—but it is not my wish to say anything that might + occasion you pain. Are you given to liquor?” + </p> + <p> + “Much oftener than liquor is given to me, I assure you; it is my meat, + drink, washing, and lodging—without it I must die. And, harkee, now; + when I meet a man I like, and who, after all, has a touch of humanity and + truth about him, to such a man, I say, I myself am all truth, at whatever + cost; but to every other—to your knave, your hypocrite, or your + trimmer, for instance, all falsehood—deep, downright, wanton + falsehood. In fact, I would scorn to throw away truth upon them. + </p> + <p> + “You are badly dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! after all, how little is known of the human heart and character!” + exclaimed Fenton. “The subject of dress and the associations connected + with it have all been effaced from my mind and feelings for years. So long + as we are capable of looking to our dress, there is always a sense of + honor and self-respect left. Dress I never think of, unless as a mere + animal protection against the elements.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” observed the other, surveying this unfortunate wretch with + compassion, “whether all perception of honor and self-respect is lost in + you I care not. Here are five pounds for you; that is to say—and + pray understand me—I commit them absolutely to your own keeping—your + own honor, your self-respect, or by whatever name you are pleased to call + it. Purchase plain clothes, get better linen, a hat and shoes: when this + is done, if you have strength of mind and resolution of character to do + it, come to me at the head inn, where I stop, and I will only ask you, in + return, to tell me anything you know or have heard about such subjects as + may chance to occur to me at the moment.” + </p> + <p> + On receiving the money, the poor fellow fastened his eyes on it with such + an expression of amazement as defies description. His physical strength + and constitution, in consequence of the life he led, were nearly gone—a + circumstance which did not escape the keen eye of the stranger, on whose + face there was an evident expression of deep compassion. The unfortunate + Frank Fenton trembled from head to foot, his face became deadly pale, and + after surveying the notes for a time, he held them out to the other, + exclaiming, as he extended his hand— + </p> + <p> + “No, no! have it, no! You are a decent fellow, and I will not impose upon + you. Take back your money; I know myself too well to accept of it. I never + could keep money, and I wouldn't have a shilling of this in my possession + at the expiration of forty-eight hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Even so,” replied the stranger, “it comes not back to me again. Drink it—eat + it—spend it is you may; but I rely on your own honor, + notwithstanding what you say, to apply it to a better purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, let me see,” said Fenton, musing, and as if in a kind of + soliloquy; “you are a good fellow, no doubt of it—that is, if you + have no lurking, dishonest design in all this. Let me see. Why, now, it is + a long time since I have had the enormous sum of five shillings in my + possession, much less the amount of the national debt, which I presume + must be pretty close upon five pounds; and in honest bank notes, too. One, + two, three—ha!—eh! eh!—oh yes,” he proceeded, evidently + struck with some discovery that astonished him. “Ay!” he exclaimed, + looking keenly at a certain name that happened to be written upon one of + the notes; “well, it is all right! Thank you, sir; I will keep the money.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. Pauden Gair's Receipt how to make a Bad Dinner a Good One + </h2> + <h3> + —The Stranger finds Fenton as mysterious as Himself. + </h3> + <p> + The stranger, on reaching the inn, had not long to wait for dinner, which, + to his disappointment, was anything but what he had been taught to expect. + The fair “waiter” had led his imagination a very ludicrous dance, indeed, + having, as Shakspeare says, kept the word of promise to his ear, but + broken it to his hope, and, what was still worse, to his appetite. On + sitting down, he found before him two excellent salt herrings to begin + with; and on ringing the bell to inquire why he was provided with such a + dainty, the male waiter himself, who had finished the field he had been + ploughing, made his appearance, after a delay of about five minutes, very + coolly wiping his mouth, for he had been at dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the waiter,” asked the stranger, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I'm not the waiter, myself; but I and Peggy Moylan is.” + </p> + <p> + “And why didn't you come when I rang for you at first?” + </p> + <p> + “I was just finishin' my dinner, sir,” replied the other, pulling a bone + of a herring from between his teeth, then going over and deliberately + throwing it into the fire. + </p> + <p> + The stranger was silent with astonishment, and, in truth, felt a stronger + inclination to laugh than to scold him. This fellow, thought he, is + clearly an original; I must draw him out a little. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” he proceeded, “was I served with a pair of d—d salt + herrings, as a part of my dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Whist, sir,” replied the fellow, “don't curse anything that God—blessed + be his name—has made; it's not right, it's sinful.” + </p> + <p> + “But why was I served with two salt herrings, I ask again?” + </p> + <p> + “Why wor you sarved with them?—Why, wasn't it what we had + ourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “Was I not promised venison?” + </p> + <p> + “Who promised it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “That female waiter of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Peggy Moylan? Well, then, I tell you the fau't wasn't hers. We had a + party o' gintlemen out here last week, and the sorra drop of it they left + behind them. Devil a drop of venison there is in the house now. You're an + Englishman, at any rate, sir, I think by your discourse?” + </p> + <p> + “Was I not promised part of a fat buck from the demesne adjoining, and + where is it? I thought I was to have fish, flesh, and fowl.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and haven't you fish.” replied the fellow. “What do you call them!” + he added, pointing to the herrings; “an' as to a fat buck, faith, it isn't + part of one, but a whole one you have. What do you call that.” He lifted + an old battered tin cover, and discovered a rabbit, gathered up as if it + were in the act of starting for its burrow. “You see, Peggy, sir, always + keeps her word; for it was a buck rabbit she meant. Well, now, there's the + fish and the flesh; and here,” he proceeded, uncovering another dish, “is + the fowl.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page329.jpg" + alt="Page 329-- a Pair of Enormous Legs, With Spurs on Them " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + On lifting the cover, a pair of enormous legs, with spurs on them an inch + and a half long, were projected at full length toward the guest, as if the + old cock—for such it was—were determined to defend himself to + the last. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the stranger, “all I can say is, that I have got a very bad + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, an' what suppose? Sure it has been many a betther man's case. + However, you have one remedy; always ait the more of it—that's the + sure card; ever and always when you have a bad dinner, ait, I say, the + more of it. I don't, think, sir, beggin' your pardon, that you've seen + much of the world yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so,” asked the other, who could with difficulty restrain + his mirth at the fellow's cool self-sufficiency and assurance. + </p> + <p> + “Because, sir, no man that has seen the world, and knows its ups and + downs, would complain of sich a dinner as that. Do you wish for any + liquor? But maybe you don't. It's not every one carries a full purse these + times; so, at any rate, have the sense not to go beyant your manes, or + whatsomever allowance you get.” + </p> + <p> + “Allowance! what do you mean by allowance?” + </p> + <p> + “I mane,” he replied, “that there's not such a crew of barefaced liars on + the airth as you English travellers, as they call you. What do you think, + but one of them had the imperance to tell me that he was allowed a guinea + a-day to live on! Troth, I crossed mysolf, and bid him go about his + business, an' that I didn't think the house or place was safe while he was + in it—for it's I that has the mortal hatred of a liar.” + </p> + <p> + “What liquor have you got in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No—if there's one thing on airth that I hate worse than another, + it's a man that shuffles—that won't tell the truth, or give you a + straight answer. We have plenty o' liquor in the house—more than + you'll use, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “But what descriptions? How many kinds? for instance—” + </p> + <p> + “Kinds enough, for that matther—all sorts and sizes of liquor.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any wine?” + </p> + <p> + “Wine! Well, now, let me speak to you as a friend; sure, 't is n't wine + you'd be thinking of?” + </p> + <p> + “But, if I pay for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Pay for it—ay, and break yourself—go beyant your manes, as I + said. No, no—I'll give you no wine—it would be only aidin' you + in extravagance, an' I wouldn't have the sin of it to answer for. We have + all enough, and too much to answer for, God knows.” + </p> + <p> + The last observation was made <i>sotto voce</i>, and with the serious + manner of a man who uttered it under a deep sense of religious truth. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the stranger, “since you won't allow me wine, have you no + cheaper liquor? I am not in the habit of dining without something stronger + than water.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse for yourself. We have good porther.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring me a bottle of it, then.” + </p> + <p> + “It's beautiful on draught.” + </p> + <p> + “But I prefer it in bottle.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt it. Lord help us! how few is it that knows what's good for + them! Will you give up your own will for wanst, and be guided by a wiser + man? for health—an' sure health's before everything—for + health, ever and always prefer draught porther.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, since it must be draught, I shall prefer draught ale.” + </p> + <p> + “Rank poison. Troth, somehow I feel a liking for you, an' for that very + reason, devil a drop of draught ale I'll allow to cross your lips. Jist be + guided by me, an' you'll find that your health an' pocket will both be the + betther for it. Troth, it's fat and rosy I'll have you in no time, all + out, if you stop with us. Now ait your good dinner, and I'll bring you the + porther immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your name.” asked the stranger, “before you go.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you when I come back—wait till I bring you the portlier, + first.” + </p> + <p> + In the course of about fifteen mortal, minutes, he returned with a quart + of porter in his hand, exclaiming— + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck to them for pigs, they got into the garden, and I had to drive + them out, and cut a lump of a bush to stop the gap wid; however, I think + they won't go back that way again. My name you want? Why, then, my name is + Paudeen Gair—that is, Sharpe, sir; but, in troth, it is n't Sharpe + by name and Sharpe by nature wid me, although you'd get them that 'ud say + otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been here,” asked the other. + </p> + <p> + “I've been laborin' for the master goin' on fourteen years; but I'm only + about twelve months attendin' table.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has your fellow-servant—Peggy, I think, you call her—been + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Not long.” + </p> + <p> + “Where had she been before, do you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I know, is it? Maybe 'tis you may say that.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? I don't understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that well enough, and it is n't my intention you should.” + </p> + <p> + “In what family was she at service.” + </p> + <p> + “Whisper;—in a bad family, wid <i>one</i> exception. God protect <i>her</i>, + the darlin'. Amin! <i>A wurra yeelsh!</i> may the curse that's hanging + over him never fall upon her this day!” + </p> + <p> + A kind and complacent spirit beamed in the fine eyes of the stranger, as + the waiter uttered these benevolent invocations; and, putting his hand in + his pocket, he said, + </p> + <p> + “My good friend Paudeen, I am richer than you are disposed to give me + credit for; I see you are a good-hearted fellow, and here's a crown for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “No! consumin' to the farden, till I know whether you're able to afford it + or not. It's always them that has least of it, unfortunately, that's + readiest to give it. I have known many a foolish creature to do what you + are doing, when, if the truth was known, they could badly spare it; but, + at any rate, wait till I deserve it; for, upon my reputaytion, I won't + finger a testher of it sooner.” + </p> + <p> + He then withdrew, and left the other to finish his dinner as best he + might. + </p> + <p> + For the next three or four days the stranger confined himself mostly to + his room, unless about dusk, when he glided out very quietly, and + disappeared rather like a spirit than anything else; for, in point of + fact, no one could tell what had become of him, or where he could have + concealed himself, during these brief but mysterious absences. Paudeen + Gair and Peggy observed that he wrote at least three or four letters every + day, and knew that he must have put them into the post-office with his own + hands, inasmuch as no person connected with the inn had been employed for + that purpose. + </p> + <p> + On the fourth day, after breakfast, and as Pat Sharpe—by which + version of his name he was sometimes addressed—was about to take + away the things, his guest entered into conversation with him as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Paudeen, my good friend, can you tell me where the wild, ragged fellow, + called Fenton, could be found?” + </p> + <p> + “I can, sir. Fenton? Begorra, you'd hardly know him if you seen him; he's + as smooth as a new pin—has a plain, daicent suit o' clothes on him. + It's whispered about among us this long time, that, if he had his rights, + he'd be entitled to a great property; and some people say now that he has + come into a part of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, what else do they say of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Wiry, then, I heard Father M'Mahon himself say that he had great + learnin', an' must a' had fine broughten-up, an' could, act the real + gintleman whenever he wished.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it known who he is, or whether he is a native of this neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; he doesn't belong to this neighborhood; an' the truth is, that + nobody here that ever I heard of knows anything at all, barrin' guesswork, + about the unfortunate poor creature. If ever he was a gintleman,” + exclaimed the kind-hearted waiter, “he's surely to be pitied, when one + sees the state he's brought to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Paudeen, will you fetch him to me, if you know where he is? Say I + wish to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “What name, if you plaise,” asked the waiter, with assumed indifference; + for the truth was, that the whole establishment felt a very natural + curiosity to know who the stranger was. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the name, Paudeen, but say as I desire you.” + </p> + <p> + Paudeen had no sooner disappeared than the anonymous gentleman went to one + of his trunks, and, pulling out a very small miniature, surveyed it for + nearly half a minute; he then looked into the fire, and seemed absorbed in + long and deep reflection. At length, after once more gazing closely and + earnestly at it, he broke involuntarily into the following soliloquy: + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he exclaimed, “that resemblances are often deceitful, and not to + be depended upon. In this case, however, there is scarcely a trace that + could constitute any particular peculiarity—a peculiarity which, if + it existed, would strengthen—I know not whether to say—my + suspicions or my hopes. The early disappearance of that poor boy, without + the existence of a single vestige by which he could be traced, resembles + one of those mysteries that are found only in romances. The general + opinion is, that he has been made away with, and is long dead; yet of + late, a different impression has gone abroad, although we know not exactly + how it has originated.” + </p> + <p> + He then paced, with a countenance of gloom, uncertainty, and deep anxiety, + through the room, and after a little time, proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “I shall, at all events, enter into conversation with this person, after + which I will make inquiries concerning the gentry and nobility of the + neighborhood when I think I shall be able to observe whether he will pass + the Gourlay family over, or betray any consciousness of a particular + knowledge of their past or present circumstances. 'Tis true, he may + overreach me; but if he does, I cannot help it. Yet, after all,” he + proceeded, “if he should prove to be the person I seek, everything may go + well; I certainly observed faint traces of an honorable feeling about him + when I gave him the money, which, notwithstanding his indigence and + dissipation, he for a time refused to take.” + </p> + <p> + He then resumed his seat, and seemed once more buried in thought and + abstraction. + </p> + <p> + Our friend Paudeen was not long in finding the unfortunate object of the + stranger's contemplation and interest. On meeting him, he perceived that + he was slightly affected with liquor, as indeed was the case generally + whenever he could procure it. + </p> + <p> + “Misther Fenton,” said Paudeen, “there's a daicent person in our house + that wishes to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who do you call a decent person, you bog-trotting Ganymede.” replied the + other. + </p> + <p> + “Why, a daicent tradesman, I think, from—thin sorra one of me knows + whether I ought to say from Dublin or London.” + </p> + <p> + “What trade, Ganymede?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, that's more than I can tell; but I know that he wants you, for he + sent me to bring you to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ganymede, I shall see your tradesman,” he replied. “Come, I shall + go to him.” + </p> + <p> + On reaching the inn, Paudeen, in order to discharge the commission + intrusted to him fully, ushered Fenton upstairs, and into the stranger's + sitting-room. “What's this,” exclaimed Fenton. “Why, you have brought me + to the wrong room, you blundering villain. I thought you were conducting + me to some worthy tradesman. You have mistaken the room, you blockhead; + this is a gentleman. How do you do, sir? I hope you will excuse this + intrusion; it is quite unintentional on my part; yet I am glad to see + you.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no mistake at all in it,” replied the other, laughing. “That + will do, Paudeen,” he added, “thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Faix,” said Paudeen to himself, when descending the stairs, “I'm afeard + that's no tradesman—whatever he is. He took on him a look like a + lord when that unfortunate Fenton went into the room. Troth, I'm fairly + puzzled, at any rate!” + </p> + <p> + “Take a seat, Mr. Fenton,” said the stranger, handing him a chair, and + addressing him in terms of respect. + </p> + <p> + “Thank, you, sir,” replied the other, putting, at the same time, a certain + degree of restraint upon his maimer, for he felt conscious of being + slightly influenced by liquor. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued the stranger, “I am glad to see that you have improved + your appearance.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, certainly, sir, as far as four pounds—or, I should rather say, + three pounds went, I did something for the outer man.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not the five?” asked the other. “I wished you to make yourself as + comfortable as possible, and did not imagine you could have done it for + less.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, not properly, according to the standard of a gentleman; but I + assure you, that, if I were in a state of utter and absolute starvation, I + would not part with one of the notes you so generously gave me, scarcely + to save my life.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” exclaimed the stranger, with a good deal of surprise. “And pray, why + not, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply,” said Fenton, “because I have taken a fancy for it beyond its + value. I shall retain it as pocket-money. Like the Vicar of Wakefield's + daughters, I shall always keep it about me; and then, like them also, I + will never want money.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a strange whim,” observed the other, “and rather an unaccountable + one, besides.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the slightest degree,” replied Fenton, “if you knew as much as I + do; but, at all events, just imagine that I am both capricious and + eccentric; so don't be surprised at anything I say or do.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither shall I,” replied “the anonymous” “However, to come to other + matters, pray what kind of a town is this of Ballytrain?” + </p> + <p> + “It is by no means a bad town,” replied Fenton, “as towns and times go. It + has a market-house, a gaol, a church, as you have seen—a Roman + Catholic chapel, and a place of worship for the Presbyterian and + Methodist. It has, besides, that characteristic locality, either of + English legislation or Irish crimes—or, perhaps, of both—a + gallows-green. It has a public pump, that has been permitted to run dry, + and public stocks for limbs like those of your humble servant, that are + permitted to stand (the stocks I mean) as a libel upon the inoffensive + morals of the town.” + </p> + <p> + “How are commercial matters in it?” + </p> + <p> + “Tolerable. Our shopkeepers are all very fair as shopkeepers. But, talking + of that, perhaps you are not aware of a singular custom which even I—for + I am not a native of this place—have seen in it?” + </p> + <p> + “What may it have been.” asked the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it was this: Of a fair or market-day,” he proceeded, “there lived a + certain shopkeeper here, who is some time dead—and I mention this to + show you how the laws were respected in this country; this shopkeeper, + sir, of a fair or market-day had a post that ran from his counter to the + ceiling; to this post was attached a single handcuff, and it always + happened that, when any person was caught in the act of committing a theft + in his shop, one arm of the offender was stretched up to this handcuff, + into which the wrist was locked; and, as the handcuff was movable, so that + it might be raised up or down, according to the height of the culprit, it + was generally fastened so that the latter was forced to stand upon the top + of his toes so long as was agreeable to the shopkeeper of whom I speak.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not mean to say,” replied his companion, who, by the way, had + witnessed the circumstances ten times for Fenton's once, “that such an + outrage upon the right of the subject, and such a contempt for the + administration of law and justice, could actually occur in a Christian and + civilized country?” + </p> + <p> + “I state to you a fact, sir,” replied Fen-ton, “which I have witnessed + with my own eyes; but we have still stranger and worse usages in this + locality.” + </p> + <p> + “What description of gentry and landed proprietors have you in the + neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! as to that, there are some good, more bad, and many indifferent, + among them. Their great fault in general is, that they are incapable of + sympathizing, as they ought, with their dependents. The pride of class, + and the influence of creed besides, are too frequently impediments, not + only to the progress of their own independence, but to the improvement of + their tenantry. Then, many of them employ servile, plausible, and + unprincipled agents, who, provided they wring the rent, by every species + of severity and oppression, out of the people, are considered by their + employers valuable and honest servants, faithfully devoted to their + interests; whilst the fact on the other side is, that the unfortunate + tenantry are every day so rapidly retrograding from prosperity, that most + of the neglected and oppressed who possess means to leave the country + emigrate to America.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Fenton, I did not think that you looked so deeply into the state and + condition of the country. Have you no good specimens of character in or + about the town itself?” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably, sir. Look out now from this window,” he proceeded, and he + went to it as he spoke, accompanied by the stranger; “do you see,” he + added, “that unostentatious shop, with the name of James Trimble over the + door?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied the other, “I see it most distinctly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, in that shop lives a man who is ten times a greater benefactor + to this town and neighborhood than is the honorable and right reverend the + lordly prelate, whose silent and untenanted palace stands immediately + behind us. In every position in which you find him, this admirable but + unassuming man is always the friend of the poor. When an industrious + family, who find that they cannot wring independence, by hard and honest + labor, out of the farms or other little tenements which they hold, have + resolved to seek it in a more prosperous country, America, the first man + to whom they apply, if deficient in means to accomplish their purpose, is + James Trimble. In him they find a friend, if he knows, as he usually does, + that they have passed through life with a character of worth and + hereditary integrity. If they want a portion of their outfit, and possess + not means to procure it, in kind-hearted James Trimble they are certain to + find a friend, who will supply their necessities upon the strength of + their bare promise to repay him. Honor,—then—honor, sir, I say + again, to the unexampled faith, truth, and high principle of the + industrious Irish peasant, who, in no instance, even although the broad + Atlantic has been placed between them, has been known to defraud James + Trimble of a single shilling. In all parochial and public meetings—in + every position where his influence can be used—he is uniformly the + friend of the poor, whilst his high but unassuming sense of honor, his + successful industry, and his firm, unshrinking independence, make him + equally appreciated and respected by the rich and poor. In fact, it is + such men as this who are the most unostentatious but practical benefactors + to the lower and middle classes.” + </p> + <p> + He had proceeded thus far, when a carriage-and-four came dashing up the + street, and stopped at the very shop which belonged to the subject of + Fenton's eulogium. Both went to the window at the same moment, and looked + out. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, whose carriage is that.” asked the stranger, fastening his eyes, + with a look of intense scrutiny, upon Fenton's face. + </p> + <p> + “That, sir,” he replied, “is the carriage of Sir Thomas Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, the door of it was opened, and a lady of surpassing elegance + and beauty stepped out of it, and entered the shop of the benevolent James + Trimble. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, who is that charming girl?” asked the stranger again. + </p> + <p> + To this interrogatory, however, he received no reply. Poor Fenton tottered + over to a chair, became pale as death, and trembled with such violence + that he was incapable, for the time, of uttering a single word. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, or have you ever known, this family?” asked the other. + </p> + <p> + After a pause of more than a minute, during which the emotion subsided, he + replied: + </p> + <p> + “I have already said that I could not—” he paused. “I am not well,” + said he; “I am quite feeble—in fact, not in a condition to answer + anything. Do not, therefore, ask me—for the present, at least.” + </p> + <p> + Fifteen or twenty minutes had elapsed before he succeeded in mastering + this singular attack. At length he rose, and placing his chair somewhat + further back from the window, continued to look out in silence, not so + much from love of silence, as apparently from inability to speak. The + stranger, in the mean time, eyed him keenly; and as he examined his + features from time to time, it might be observed that an expression of + satisfaction, if not almost of certainty, settled upon his own + countenance. In a quarter of an hour, the sound of the carriage-wheels was + heard on its return, and Fenton, who seemed to dread also a return of his + illness, said: + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake, sir, be good enough to raise the window and let in + air. Thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage, on this occasion, was proceeding more slowly than before—in + fact, owing to a slight acclivity in that part of the street, the horses + were leisurely walking past the inn window at the moment the stranger + raised it. The noise of the ascending sash reached Miss Gourlay (for it + was she), who, on looking up, crimsoned deeply, and, with one long taper + finger on her lips, as if to intimate caution and silence, bowed to the + stranger. The latter, who had presence of mind enough to observe the hint, + did not bow in return, and consequently declined to appropriate the + compliment to himself. Fenton now surveyed his companion with an + appearance of as much interest and curiosity as the other had bestowed on + him. He felt, however, as if his physical powers were wholly prostrated. + </p> + <p> + “I am very weak,” said he, bitterly, “and near the close of my brief and + unhappy day. I have, however, one cure—get me drink—drink, I + say; that is what will revive me. Sir, my life, for the last fourteen + years, has been a battle against thought; and without drink I should be a + madman—a madman! oh, God!” + </p> + <p> + The other remonstrated with him in vain; but he was inexorable, and began + to get fierce and frantic. At length, it occurred to him, that perhaps the + influence of liquor might render this strange individual more + communicative, and that by this means he might succeed in relieving + himself of his doubts—for he still had doubts touching Fenton's + identity. In this, however, he was disappointed, as a circumstance + occurred which prevented him from then gratifying Fenton's wish, or + winning him into confidence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. An Anonymous Letter + </h2> + <h3> + —Lucy Gourlay avows a previous Attachment. + </h3> + <p> + Whilst Fenton was thus sketching for the stranger a few of the public + characters of Ballytrain, a scene, which we must interrupt them to + describe, was taking place in the coffee-room of the “Mitre.” As + everything, however, has an origin, it is necessary, before we raise the + curtain, which, for the present, excludes us from that scene, to enable + the reader to become acquainted with the cause of it. That morning, after + breakfast, Sir Thomas Gourlay went to his study, where, as usual, he began + to read his letters and endorse them—for he happened to be one of + those orderly and exact men who cannot bear to see even a trifle out of + its place. Having despatched three or four, he took up one—the last—and + on opening it read, much to his astonishment and dismay, as follows; + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay,—There is an adventurer in disguise near you. + Beware of your daughter, and watch her well, otherwise she may give you + the slip. I write this, that you may prevent her from throwing herself + away upon an impostor and profligate. I am a friend to her, but none to + you; and it is on her account, as well as for the sake of another, that + you are now warned.” + </p> + <p> + On perusing this uncomfortable document, his whole frame became moved with + a most vehement fit of indignation. He rose from his seat, and began to + traverse the floor with lengthy and solemn strides, as a man usually does + who knows not exactly on whom to vent his rage. There hung a large mirror + before him, and, as he approached it from time to time, he could not help + being struck by the repulsive expression of his own features. He was a + tall, weighty man, of large bones and muscles; his complexion was sallow, + on a black ground; his face firm, but angular; and his forehead, which was + low, projected a good deal over a pair of black eyes, in one of which + there was a fearful squint. His eyebrows, which met, were black, + fierce-looking, and bushy, and, when agitated, as now, with passion, they + presented, taken in connection with his hard, irascible lips, short + irregular teeth and whole complexion, an expression singularly stern and + malignant. + </p> + <p> + On looking at his own image, he could not help feeling the conviction, + that the visage which presented itself to him was not such a one as was + calculated to diminish the unpopularity which accompanied him wherever he + went, and the obloquy which hung over his name. + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay, however, although an exceedingly forbidding and ugly + man, was neither a fool nor novice in the ways of the world. No man could + look upon his plotting forehead, and sunken eyes closely placed, without + feeling at once that he was naturally cunning and circumventive. Nor was + this all; along with being deep and designing, he was also subject to + sudden bursts of passion, which, although usual in such a temperament, did + not suddenly pass away. On the contrary, they were sometimes at once so + tempestuous and abiding, that he had been rendered ill by their fury, and + forced to take to his bed for days together. On the present occasion, a + considerable portion of his indignation was caused by the fact, that he + knew not the individual against whom to direct it. His daughter, as a + daughter, had been to him an object of perfect indifference, from the day + of her birth up to that moment; that is to say, he was utterly devoid of + all personal love and tenderness for her, whilst, at the same time, he + experienced, in its full force, a cold, conventional ambition, which, + although without honor, principle, or affection, yet occasioned him to + devote all his efforts and energies to her proper establishment in the + world. In her early youth, for instance, she had suffered much from + delicate health, so much, indeed, that she was more than once on the very + verge of death; yet, on no occasion, was he ever known to manifest the + slightest parental sorrow for her illness. Society, however, is filled + with such fathers, and with too many mothers of a like stamp. So far, + however, as Lucy Gourlay was concerned, this proud, unprincipled spirit of + the world supplied to her, to a certain extent at least, the possession of + that which affection ought to have given. Her education was attended to + with the most solicitous anxiety—not in order to furnish her mind + with that healthy description of knowledge which strengthens principle and + elevates the heart, but that she might become a perfect mistress of all + the necessary and fashionable accomplishments, and shine, at a future day, + an object of attraction on that account. A long and expensive array of + masters, mistresses, and finishers, from almost every climate and country + of Europe, were engaged in her education, and the consequence was, that + few young persons of her age and sex were more highly accomplished. If his + daughter's head ached, her father never suffered that circumstance to + disturb the cold, stern tenor of his ambitious way; but, at the same time, + two or three of the most eminent physicians were sent for, as a matter of + course, and then there were nothing but consultations until she recovered. + Had she died, Sir Thomas Gourlay would not have shed one tear, but he + would have had all the pomp and ceremony due to her station in life + solemnly paraded at her funeral, and it is very likely that one or other + of our eminent countrymen, Hogan or M'Dowall, had they then existed, would + have been engaged to erect her a monument. + </p> + <p> + And yet the feeling which he experienced, and which regulated his life, + was, after all, but a poor pitiful parody upon true ambition. The latter + is a great and glorious principle, because, where it exists, it never + fails to expand the heart, and to prompt it to the performance of all + those actions that elevate our condition and dignify our nature. Had he + experienced anything like such a feeling as this, or even the beautiful + instincts of parental affection, he would not have neglected, as he did, + the inculcation of all those virtues and principles which render education + valuable, and prevent it from degenerating into an empty parade of mere + accomplishments. + </p> + <p> + It is true, Sir Thomas Gourlay enjoyed the reputation of being an + admirable father, and, indeed, from mere worldly principle he was so, and + we presume gave himself credit for being so. In the mean time, our readers + are to learn that earth scarcely contained a man who possessed a greedier + or more rapacious spirit; and, if ever the demon of envy, especially with + respect to the possession of wealth and property, tortured the soul of a + human being, it did that of our baronet. His whole spirit, in fact, was + dark, mean, and intensely selfish; and for this reason, it was a fearful + thing for any one to stand in his way when in the execution of his sordid + projects, much less to attempt his defeat in their attainment. Reckless + and unscrupulous, he left no means unattempted, however odious and wicked, + to crush those who offended him, or such as stood in the way of his love + of wealth and ambition. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes after the perusal of the anonymous letter, one would have + imagined that the image which met his gaze, from time to time, in the + looking-glass, was that of his worst and deadliest enemy, so fierce and + menacing were the glances which he cast on it as he paced the floor. At + length he took up the document, and, having read it again, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, after all, I'm angry to no purpose; certainly to no purpose, in + one sense, I am, inasmuch as I know not who this anonymous person is. But + stay, let me be cautious—is there such a person? May this + communication not be a false one—written to mislead or provoke me? + Lucy knows that I am determined she shall marry Lord Dunroe, and I am not + aware that she entertains any peculiar objection to him. In the mean time, + I will have some conversation with her, in order to ascertain what her + present and immediate feeling on the subject is. It is right that I should + see my way in this.” + </p> + <p> + He accordingly rang the bell, when a well-powdered footman, in rich + livery, entered. + </p> + <p> + “Let Miss Gourlay understand that I wish to see her.” + </p> + <p> + This he uttered in a loud, sharp tone of voice, for it was in such he + uniformly addressed his dependents. + </p> + <p> + The lackey bowed and withdrew, and, in the course of a few minutes, his + daughter entered the study, and stood before him. At the first glance, she + saw that something had discomposed him, and felt a kind of instinctive + impression that it was more or less connected with herself. + </p> + <p> + Seldom, indeed, was such a contrast between man and woman ever witnessed, + as that which presented itself on this occasion. There stood the large, + ungainly, almost misshapen father, with a countenance distorted, by the + consequences of ill-suppressed passion, into a deeper deformity—a + deformity that was rendered ludicrously hideous, by a squint that gave, as + we have said, to one of his eyes, as he looked at her, the almost literal + expression of a dagger. Before him, on the other hand, stood a girl, whose + stature was above the middle height, with a form that breathed of + elegance, ease, and that exquisite grace which marks every look, and word, + and motion of the high-minded and accomplished lady. Indeed, one would + imagine that her appearance would have soothed and tranquillized the anger + of any parent capable of feeling that glowing and prideful tenderness, + with which such an exquisitely beautiful creature was calculated to fill a + parent's heart. Lucy Gourlay was a dark beauty—a brunette so richly + tinted, that the glow of her cheek was only surpassed by the flashing + brilliancy of her large, dark eyes, that seemed, in those glorious + manifestations, to kindle with inspiration. Her forehead was eminently + intellectual, and her general temperament—Celtic by the mother's + side—was remarkable for those fascinating transitions of spirit + which passed over her countenance like the gloom and sunshine of the early + summer. Nothing could be more delightful, nor, at the same time, more + dangerous, than to watch that countenance whilst moving under the + influence of melancholy, and to observe how quickly the depths of feeling, + or the impulses of tenderness, threw their delicious shadows into its + expression—unless, indeed, to watch the same face when lit up by + humor, and animated into radiance by mirth. Such is a faint outline of + Lucy Gourlay, who, whether in shadow or whether in light, was equally + captivating and irresistible. + </p> + <p> + On entering the room, her father, incapable of appreciating even the + natural graced and beauty of her person, looked at her with a gaze of + sternness and inquiry for some moments, but seemed at a loss in what terms + to address her. She, however, spoke first, simply saying: + </p> + <p> + “Has anything discomposed you, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been discomposed, Miss Gourlay”—for he seldom addressed her + as Lucy—“and I wish to have some serious conversation with you. Pray + be seated.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy sat. + </p> + <p> + “I trust, Miss Gourlay,” he proceeded, in a style partly interrogatory and + partly didactic—“I trust you are perfectly sensible that a child + like you owes full and unlimited obedience to her parents.” + </p> + <p> + “So long, at least, sir, as her parents exact no duties from her that are + either unreasonable or unjust, or calculated to destroy her own happiness. + With these limitations, I reply in the affirmative.” + </p> + <p> + “A girl like you, Miss Gourlay, has no right to make exceptions. Your want + of experience, which is only another name for your ignorance of life, + renders you incompetent to form an estimate of what constitutes, or may + constitute, your happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Happiness!—in what sense, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “In any sense, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” she replied, with much feeling. “Dear papa—if you will + allow me to call you so—why address me in a tone of such coldness, + if not of severity? All I ask of you is, that, when you do honor me by an + interview, you will remember that I am your daughter, and not speak to me + as you would to an utter stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “The tone which I may assume toward you, Miss Gourlay, must be regulated + by your own obedience.” + </p> + <p> + “But in what have I ever failed in obedience to you, my dear papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you compliment your obedience prematurely, Lucy—it has + never yet been seriously tested.” + </p> + <p> + Her beautiful face crimsoned at this assertion; for she well knew that + many a severe imposition had been placed upon her during girlhood, and + that, had she been any other girl than she was, her very youth would have + been forced into opposition to commands that originated in whim, caprice, + and selfishness. Even when countenanced, however, by the authority of her + other parent, and absolutely urged against compliance with injunctions + that were often cruel and oppressive, she preferred, at any risk, to + accommodate herself to them rather than become the cause of estrangement + or ill-feeling between him and her mother, or her mother's friends. Such a + charge as this, then, was not only ungenerous, but, as he must have well + known, utterly unfounded. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish, sir,” she replied, “to make any allusion to the past, + unless simply to say, that, if severe and trying instances of obedience + have been exacted from me, under very peculiar circumstances, I trust I + have not been found wanting in my duty to you.” + </p> + <p> + “That obedience, Miss Gourlay, which is reluctantly given, had better been + forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “You have forced me to remember it in my own defence, papa; but I am not + conscious that it was reluctant.” + </p> + <p> + “You contradict me, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I only take the liberty of setting you right. My obedience, if + you recollect, was cheerful; for I did not wish to occasion ill-will + between you and mamma—my dear mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you considered that you had only one parent, Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “That loved me, sir, you would add. But, papa, why should there be such a + dialogue as this between you and your daughter—your orphan daughter, + and your only child? It is not natural, Something, I see, has discomposed + your temper; I am ignorant of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I made you aware, some time ago, that the Earl of Cullamore and I had + entered into a matrimonial arrangement between you and his son, Lord + Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + A deadly paleness settled upon her countenance at these words—a + paleness the more obvious, as it contrasted so strongly with the previous + rich hue of her complexion, which had been already heightened by the + wanton harshness of her father's manner. The baronet's eyes, or rather his + eye, was fixed upon her with a severity which this incident rapidly + increased. + </p> + <p> + “You grow pale, Miss Gourlay; and there seems to be something in this + allusion to Lord Dunroe that is painful to you. How is this, madam? I do + not understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am, indeed, pale, and I feel that I am; for what is there that could + drive the hue of modesty from the cheek of a daughter, sooner than the + fact of her own father purposing to unite her to a profligate? You seldom + jest, papa; but I hope you do so now.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not disposed to make a jest of your happiness, Miss Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor of my misery, papa. You surely cannot but know—nay, you cannot + but feel—that a marriage between me and Lord Dunroe is impossible. + His profligacy is so gross, that his very name is indelicate in the mouth + of a modest woman. And is this the man to whom you would unite your only + child and daughter? But I trust you still jest, sir. As a man, and a + gentleman, much less as a parent, you would not think seriously of making + such a proposal to me?” + </p> + <p> + “All very fine sentiment—very fine stuff and nonsense, madam; the + young man is a little wild—somewhat lavish in expenditure—and + for the present not very select in the company he keeps; but he is no + fool, as they say, and we all know how marriage reforms a man, and + thoroughly sobers him down.” + </p> + <p> + “Often at the expense, papa,” she replied with tears, “of many a broken + heart. That surely, is not a happy argument; for, perhaps, after all, I + should, like others, become but a victim to my ineffectual efforts at his + reformation.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing, Miss Gourlay, you are certain to become, and that is, + Countess of Cullamore, at his father's death. Remember this; and. remember + also, that, victim or no victim, I am determined you shall marry him. Yes, + you shall marry him,” he added, stamping with vehemence, “or be turned a + beggar upon the world. Become a victim, indeed! Begone, madam, to your + room, and prepare for that obedience which your mother never taught you.” + </p> + <p> + She rose as he spoke, and with a graceful inclination of her head, + silently withdrew. + </p> + <p> + This dialogue caused both father and daughter much pain. Certain portions + of it, especially near the close, were calculated to force upon the memory + of each, analogies that were as distressing to the warm-hearted girl, as + they were embarrassing to her parent. The truth was, that her mother, then + a year dead, had indeed become a victim to the moral profligacy of a man + in whose character there existed nothing whatsoever to compensate her for + the utter absence of domestic affection in all its phases. His principal + vices, so far as they affected the peace of his family, were a brutal + temper, and a most scandalous dishonesty in pecuniary transactions, + especially in his intercourse with his own tenantry and tradesmen. Of + moral obligation he seemed to possess no sense or impression whatever. A + single day never occurred in which he was not guilty of some most + dishonorable violation of his word to the poor, and those who were + dependent on him. Ill-temper therefore toward herself, and the necessity + of constantly witnessing a series of vile and unmanly frauds upon a + miserable scale, together with her incessant efforts to instil into his + mind some slight principle of common integrity, had, during an unhappy + life, so completely harassed a mind naturally pure and gentle, and a + constitution never strong, that, as her daughter hinted, and as every one + intimate with the family knew, she literally fell a victim to the vices we + have named, and the incessant anxiety they occasioned her. These + analogies, then, when unconsciously alluded to by his daughter, brought + tears to her eyes, and he felt that the very grief she evinced was an + indirect reproach to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he exclaimed, after she had gone, “it is clear, I think, that the + girl entertains something more than a mere moral objection to this match. + I would have taxed her with some previous engagement, but that I fear it + would be premature to do so at present. Dunroe is wild, no doubt of it; + but I cannot believe that women, who are naturally vain and fond of + display, feel so much alarm at this as they pretend. I never did myself + care much about the sex, and seldom had an opportunity of studying their + general character, or testing their principles; but still I incline to the + opinion, that, where there is not a previous engagement, rank and wealth + will, for the most part, outweigh every other consideration. In the + meantime I will ride into Ballytrain, and reconnoitre a little. Perhaps + the contents, of this communication are true—perhaps not; but, at + all events, it can be no harm to look about me in a quiet way.” + </p> + <p> + He then read the letter a third time—examined the handwriting + closely—locked it in a private drawer—rang the bell—ordered + his horse—and in a few minutes was about to proceed to the “Mitre” + inn, in order to make secret inquiries after such persons as he might find + located in that or the other establishments of the town. At this moment, + his daughter once more entered the apartment, her face glowing with deep + agitation, and her large, mellow eyes lit up with a fixed, and, if one + could judge, a lofty purpose. Her reception, we need hardly say, was + severe and harsh. + </p> + <p> + “How, madam,” he exclaimed, “did I not order you to your room? Do you + return to bandy undutiful hints and arguments with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, “I am not ignorant, alas! of your stern and + indomitable character; but, upon the subject of forced and unsuitable + matches, I may and I do appeal directly to the experience of your own + married life, and of that of my beloved mother. She was, unhappily for + herself—” + </p> + <p> + “And for me, Miss Gourlay—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps so; but if ever woman was qualified to make a man happy, + she was. At all events, sir, unhappily she was forced into marriage with + you, and you deliberately took to your bosom a reluctant bride. She + possessed extraordinary beauty, and a large fortune. I, however, am not + about to enter into your heart, or analyze its motives; it is enough to + say that, although she had no previous engagement or affection for any + other, she was literally dragged by the force of parental authority into a + union with you. The consequence was, that her whole life, owing to—to—the + unsuitableness of your tempers, and the strongly-contrasted materials + which formed your characters, was one of almost unexampled suffering and + sorrow. With this example before my eyes, and with the memory of it + brooding over and darkening your own heart—yes, papa—my dear + papa, let me call you with the full and most distressing recollections + connected with it strong upon both of us, let me entreat and implore that + you will not urge nor force me into a union with this hateful and + repulsive profligate. I go upon my knees to you, and entreat, as you + regard my happiness, my honor, and my future peace of mind, that you will + not attempt to unite me to this most unprincipled and dishonorable young + man.” + </p> + <p> + Her father's brow grew black as a thunder-cloud; the veins of his temples + swelled up, as if they had been filled with ink, and, after a few hasty + strides through the study, he turned upon her such a look of fury as we + need not attempt to describe. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gourlay,” said he, in a voice dreadfully deep and stern, “there is + not an allusion made in that undutiful harangue—for so I must call + it—that does not determine me to accomplish my purpose in effecting + this union. If your mother was unhappy, the fault lay in her own weak and + morbid temper. As for me, I now tell you, once for all, that your destiny + is either beggary or a coronet; on that I am resolved!” + </p> + <p> + She stood before him like one who had drawn strength from the full + knowledge of her fate. Her face, it is true, had become pale, but it was + the paleness of a calm but lofty spirit, and she replied, with a full and + clear voice: + </p> + <p> + “I said, sir—for I had her own sacred assurance for it—that my + mother, when she married you, had no previous engagement; it is not so + with your daughter—my affections are fixed upon another.” + </p> + <p> + There are some natures so essentially tyrannical, and to whom resistance + is a matter of such extraordinary novelty, that its manifestation + absolutely surprises them out of their natural character. In this manner + Sir Thomas Gourlay was affected. Instead of flying into a fresh hurricane + of rage, he felt so completely astounded, that he was only capable of + turning round to her, and asking, in a voice unusually calm: + </p> + <p> + “Pray name him, Miss Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + “In that, sir, you will excuse me—for the present. The day may come, + and I trust soon will, when I can do so with honor. And now, sir, having + considered it my duty not to conceal this fact from your knowledge, I + will, with your permission, withdraw to my own apartment.” + </p> + <p> + She paid him, with her own peculiar grace, the usual obeisance, and left + the room. The stem and overbearing Sir Thomas Gourlay now felt himself so + completely taken aback by her extraordinary candor and firmness, that he + was only able to stand and look after her in silent amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he exclaimed, “I have reason to thank her for this important piece + of information. She has herself admitted a previous attachment. So far my + doubts are cleared up, and I feel perfectly certain that the anonymous + information is correct. It now remains for me to find out who the object + of this attachment is. I have no doubt that he is in the neighborhood; + and, if so, I shall know how to manage him.” + </p> + <p> + He then mounted his horse, and rode into Ballytrain, with what purpose it + is now unnecessary, we trust, to trouble the reader at farther length. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. Sir Thomas Gourlay fails in unmasking the Stranger + </h2> + <h3> + —Mysterious Conduct of Fenton + </h3> + <p> + When Sir Thomas Gourlay, after the delay of better than an hour in town, + entered the coffee-room of the “Mitre,” he was immediately attended by the + landlord himself. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this new guest you have got, landlord,” inquired the baronet—“They + tell me he is a very mysterious gentleman, and that no one can discover + his name. Do! you know anything about him?” + </p> + <p> + “De'il a syllable, Sir Tammas,” replied the landlord, who was a northern—“How + ir you, Counsellor Crackenfudge,” he added, speaking to a person who + passed upstairs—“There he goes,” proceeded Jack the landlord—“a + nice boy. But do you know, Sir Tammas, why he changed his name to + Crackenfudge?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas's face at this moment, had grown frightful. While the landlord + was speaking, the baronet, attracted by the noise of a carriage passing, + turned to observe it, just at the moment when his daughter was bowing so + significantly to the stranger in the window over them, as we have before + stated. Here was a new light thrown upon the mystery or mysteries by which + he felt himself surrounded on all hands. The strange guest in the Mitre + inn, was then, beyond question, the very individual alluded to in the + anonymous letter. The baronet's face had, in the scowl of wrath, got + black, as mine host was speaking. This expression, however, gradually + diminished in the darkness of that wrathful shadow which lay over it. + After a severe internal struggle with his tremendous passions, he at + length seemed to cool down. His face became totally changed; and in a few + minutes of silence and struggle, it passed from the blackness of almost + ungovernable rage to a pallid hue, that might not most aptly be compared + to the summit of a volcano covered with snow, when about to project its + most awful and formidable eruptions. + </p> + <p> + The landlord, while putting the question to the baronet, turned his sharp, + piercing eyes upon him, and, at a single glance, perceived that something + had unusually moved him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tammas,” said he, “there is no use in denyin' it, now—the + blood's disturbed in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Give your guest my compliments—Sir Thomas Gourlay's compliments—and + I should feel obliged by a short interview.” + </p> + <p> + On going up, Jack found the stranger and Fenton as we have already + described them—“Sir,” said he, addressing the former—“there's + a gentleman below who wishes to know who you ir.” + </p> + <p> + “Who I am!” returned the other, quite unmoved; “and, pray who may he be?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tammas Gourlay; an' all tell you what, if you don't wish to see him, + why don't see him. A 'll take him the message, an' if there's anything + about you that you don't wish to be known or heard, make him keep his + distance. He's this minute in a de'il of a passion about something, an' + was comin' up as if he'd ait you without salt, but a' would n't allow it; + so, if you don't wish to see him, am the boy won't be afeard to say so. + He's not coming as a friend, a' can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay's in the house, then,” said the stranger, with a good + deal of surprise. He then paused for some time, and, during this pause, he + very naturally concluded that the baronet had witnessed his daughter's + bow, so cautiously and significantly made to himself as she passed. Whilst + he turned over these matters in his mind, the landlord addressed Fenton as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “You can go to another room, Fenton. A'm glad to see you in a decent suit + of clothes, any way—a' hope you'll take yourself up, and avoid drink + and low company; for de'il a haet good ever the same two brought anybody; + but, before you go, a'll give you a gless o' grog to drink the Glorious + Memory. Come, now, tramp, like a good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a particular wish,” said the stranger, “that Mr. Fenton should + remain; and say to Sir Thomas Gourlay that I am ready to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “A' say, then,” said Jack, in a friendly whisper, “be on your edge with + him, for, if he finds you saft, the very de'il won't stand him.” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman, Sir Tammas,” said Jack, on going down stairs, “will be + glad to see you. He's overhead.” + </p> + <p> + Fenton, himself, on hearing that Sir Thomas was about to come up, prepared + to depart; but the other besought him so earnestly to stay, that he + consented, although with evident reluctance. He brought his chair over to + a corner of the room, as if he wished to be as much out of the way as + possible, or, it may be, as far from Sir Thomas's eye, as the size of the + apartment would permit. Be this as it may, Sir Thomas entered, and brought + his ungainly person nearly to the centre of the room before he spoke. At + length he did so, but took care not to accompany his words with that + courtesy of manner, or those rules of good-breeding, which ever prevail + among gentlemen, whether as friends or foes. After standing for a moment, + he glanced from the one to the other, his face still hideously pale; and + ultimately, fixing his eye upon the stranger, he viewed him from head to + foot, and again from foot to head, with a look of such contemptuous + curiosity, as certainly was strongly calculated to excite the stranger's + indignation. Finding the baronet spoke not, the other did. + </p> + <p> + “To what am I to attribute the honor of this visit, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas even then did not speak, but still kept looking at him with the + expression we have described. At length he did speak: + </p> + <p> + “You have been residing for some time in our neighborhood, sir.” The + stranger simply bowed. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask how long?” + </p> + <p> + “I have the honor, I believe, of addressing Sir Thomas Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have that honor.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I beg to know his object in paying me this unceremonious visit, + in which he does not condescend either to announce himself, or to observe + the usual rules of good-breeding?” + </p> + <p> + “From my rank and known position in this part of the country, and in my + capacity also as a magistrate, sir,” replied the baronet, “I'm entitled to + make such inquiries as I may deem necessary from those who appear here + under suspicious circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you may think so, but I am of opinion, sir, that you would + consult the honor of the rank and position you allude to much more + effectually, by letting such inquiries fall within the proper province of + the executive officers of law, whenever you think there is a necessity for + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, but, in that manner, I shall follow my own judgment, not + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “And under what circumstances of suspicion do you deem me to stand at + present?” + </p> + <p> + “Very strong circumstances. You have been now living here nearly a week, + in a privacy which no gentleman would ever think of observing. You have + hemmed yourself in by a mystery, sir; you have studiously concealed your + name—your connections—and defaced every mark by which you + could be known or traced. This, sir, is not the conduct of a gentleman; + and argues either actual or premeditated guilt.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem heated, sir, and you also reason in resentment, whatever may + have occasioned it. And so a gentleman is not to make an excursion to a + country town in a quiet way—perhaps to recruit his health, perhaps + to relax his mind, perhaps to gratify a whim—but he must be pounced + upon by some outrageous dispenser of magisterial justice, who thinks, + that, because he wishes to live quietly and unknown, he must be some + cutthroat, or raw-head-and-bloody-bones coming to eat half the country?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say, sir, that is all very fine, and very humorous; but when these + mysterious vagabonds—” + </p> + <p> + The eye of the stranger blazed; lightning itself, in fact, was not quicker + than the fire which gleamed from it, as the baronet uttered the last + words. He walked over deliberately, but with a step replete with energy + and determination: + </p> + <p> + “How, sir,” said he, “do you dare to apply such an expression to me?” + </p> + <p> + The baronet's eye quailed. He paused a moment, during which he could + perceive that the stranger had a spirit not to be tampered with. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” he replied, “not exactly to you, but when persons such as you + come in this skulking way, probably for the purpose of insinuating + themselves into families of rank—” + </p> + <p> + “Have I, sir, attempted to insinuate myself into yours,” asked the + stranger, interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + “When such persons come under circumstances of strong suspicion,” said the + other, without replying to him, “it is the business of every gentleman in + the country to keep a vigilant eye upon them.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall hold myself accountable to no such gentleman,” replied the + stranger; “but will consider every man, no matter what his rank or + character may be, as unwarrantably impertinent, who arrogantly attempts to + intrude himself in affairs that don't—” he was about to add, “that + don't concern him,” when he paused, and added, “into any man's affairs. + Every man has a right to travel incognito, and to live incognito, if he + chooses; and, on that account, sir, so long as I wish to maintain mine, I + shall allow no man to assume the right of penetrating it. If this has been + the object of your visit, you will much oblige me by relinquishing the + one, and putting an end to the other, as soon as may be.” + </p> + <p> + “As a magistrate, sir, I demand to know your name,” said the baronet, who + thought that, in the stranger's momentary hesitation, he had observed + symptoms of yielding. + </p> + <p> + “As an independent man, sir, and a gentleman, I shall not answer such a + question.” + </p> + <p> + “You brave me, sir—you defy me.” continued the other, his face still + pale, but baleful in its expression. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied the other, “I brave you—I defy you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” returned the baronet—“remember these words.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in the habit of forgetting anything that a man of spirit ought + to remember,” said the other—“I have the honor of wishing you a + good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet withdrew in a passion that had risen to red heat, and was + proceeding to mount his horse at the door, when Counsellor Crackenfudge, + who had followed him downstairs, thus addressed him: + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas; I happened to be sitting in the back-room + while you were speaking to that strange fellow above; I pledge you my + honor I did not listen; but I could not help overhearing, you know—well, + Sir Thomas, I can tell you something about him.” + </p> + <p> + “How!” said the baronet, whose eye I gleamed with delight—“Can you, + in truth, tell me anything about him, Mr. Crackenfudge? You will oblige me + very much if you do.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you all I know about him, Sir Thomas,” replied the worthy + counsellor; “and that is, that I know he has paid many secret visits to + Mr. Birney the attorney.” + </p> + <p> + “To Birney!” exclaimed the other; and, as he spoke, he seemed actually to + stagger back a step or two, whilst the paleness of his complexion + increased to a hue that was ghastly—“to Birney!—to my blackest + and bitterest enemy—to the man who, I suspect, has important family + documents of mine in his possession. Thanks, even for this, Crackenfudge—you + are looking to become of the peace. Hearken now; aid me in ferreting out + this lurking scoundrel, and I shall not forget your wishes.” He then rode + homewards. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, during this stormy dialogue with Sir Thomas Gourlay, turned + his eye, from time to time, toward Fenton, who appeared to have lost + consciousness itself so long as the baronet was in the room. On the + departure, however, of that gentleman, he went over to him, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Fenton, what's the matter?” Fenton looked at him with a face of + great distress, from which the perspiration was pouring, but seemed + utterly unable to speak. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. Extraordinary Scene between Fenton and the Stranger. + </h2> + <p> + The character of Fenton was one that presented an extraordinary variety of + phases. With the exception of the firmness and pertinacity with which he + kept the mysterious secret of his origin and identity—that is, if he + himself knew them, he was never known to maintain the same moral + temperament for a week together. Never did there exist a being so + capricious and unstable. At one time, you found him all ingenuousness and + candor; at another, no earthly power could extort a syllable of truth from + his lips. For whole days, if not for weeks together, he dealt in nothing + but the wildest fiction, and the most extraordinary and grotesque + rodomontade. The consequence was, that no reliance could be placed on + anything he said or asserted. And yet—which appeared to be rather + unaccountable in such a character—it could be frequently observed + that he was subject to occasional periods of the deepest dejection. During + those painful and gloomy visitations, he avoided all intercourse with his + fellow-men, took to wandering through the country—rarely spoke to + anybody, whether stranger or acquaintance, but maintained the strictest + and most extraordinary silence. If he passed a house at meal-time he + entered, and, without either preface or apology, quietly sat down and + joined them. To this freedom on his part, in a country so hospitable as + Ireland in the days of her prosperity was, and could afford to be, no one + ever thought of objecting. + </p> + <p> + “It was,” observed the people, “only the poor young gentleman who is not + right in the head.” + </p> + <p> + So that the very malady which they imputed to him was only a passport to + their kindness and compassion. Fenton had no fixed residence, nor any + available means of support, save the compassionate and generous interest + which the inhabitants of Ballytrain took in him, in consequence of those + gentlemanly manners which he could assume whenever he wished, and the + desolate position in which some unknown train of circumstances had + unfortunately placed him. + </p> + <p> + When laboring under these depressing moods to which we have alluded, his + memory seemed filled with recollections that, so far as appearances went, + absolutely stupefied his heart by the heaviness of the suffering they + occasioned it; and, when that heart, therefore, sank as far as its powers + of endurance could withstand this depression, he uniformly had recourse to + the dangerous relief afforded by indulgence in the fiery stimulant of + liquor, to which he was at all times addicted. + </p> + <p> + Such is a slightly detailed sketch of an individual whose fate is deeply + involved in the incidents and progress of our narrative. + </p> + <p> + The horror which we have described as having fallen upon this unfortunate + young man, during Sir Thomas Gourlay's stormy interview with the stranger, + so far from subsiding, as might be supposed, after his departure, assumed + the shape of something bordering on insanity. On looking at his companion, + the wild but deep expression of his eyes began to change into one of + absolute frenzy, a circumstance which could not escape the stranger's + observation, and which, placed as he was in the pursuit of an important + secret, awoke a still deeper interest, whilst at the same time it + occasioned him much pain. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fenton,” said he, “I certainly have no wish, by any proceeding + incompatible with an ungentlemanly feeling of impertinent curiosity, to + become acquainted with the cause of this unusual excitement, which the + appearance of Miss Gourlay and her father seems to produce upon you, + unless in so far as its disclosure, in honorable confidence, might enable + me, as a person sincerely your friend, to allay or remove it.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose, sir, you are mistaken.” replied the other—“Do you not know + that there are memories arising from association, that are touched and + kindled into great pain, by objects that are by no means the direct cause + of them, or the cause of them in any sense?” + </p> + <p> + “I admit the truth of what you say, Mr. Fenton; but we can only draw our + first inferences from appearances. It is not from any idle or prurient + desire to become acquainted with the cause of your emotion that I speak, + but simply from a wish to serve you, if you will permit me. It is + distressing to witness what you suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “I have experienced,” said Fenton, whose excitement seemed not only to + rise as he proceeded, but in a considerable degree to give that fervor and + elevation to his language, which excitement often gives; “yes, sir,” he + proceeded, his eyes kindling almost into fury, “I have experienced much + treacherous and malignant sympathy, under the guise of pretended + friendship—sympathy! why do I say sympathy? Persecution—vengeance. + Yes, sir, till I have become mad—or—or nearly so. No,” he + added, “I am not mad—I never was mad—but I understand your + object—avaunt, sir—begone—or I shall throw you out of + the window.” + </p> + <p> + “Be calm, Mr. Fenton—be calm,” replied the stranger, “and collect + yourself. I am, indeed, sincerely your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you, sir, that I was mad?” + </p> + <p> + “I never said so, Mr. Fenton.” + </p> + <p> + “It matters not, sir—you are a traitor—and as such I denounce + you. This room is mine, sir, and I shall forthwith expel you from it—” + and, as he spoke, he started up, and sprung at the stranger, who, on + seeing him rise for the purpose, instantly rang the bell. The waiter + immediately entered, and found the latter holding poor Fenton by the two + wrists, and with such a tremendous grasp as made him feel like an infant, + in point of strength, in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “This is unmeaning violence, sir,” exclaimed the latter, calmly but + firmly, “unless you explain yourself, and give a reason for it. If you are + moved by any peculiar cause of horror, or apprehension, or danger, why not + enable me to understand it, in order that you may feel assured of my + anxious disposition to assist you?” + </p> + <p> + “Gintlemen,” exclaimed Paudeen, “what in the name of Pether White and + Billy Neelins is the reason of this? But I needn't ax—it's one of + Mr. Fenton's tantrams—an' the occasion of it was, lying snug and + warm this mornin', in one of Andy Trimble's whiskey barrels. For shame, + Mr. Fenton, you they say a gintleman born, and to thrate one of your own + rank—a gintleman that befriended you as he did, and put a daicint + shoot of clo'es on your miserable carcase; when you know that before he + did it, if the wind was blowing from the thirty-two points of the compass, + you had an openin' for every point, if they wor double the number. Troth, + now, you're ongrateful, an' if God hasn't said it, you'll thravel from an + onpenitent death-bed yet. Be quiet, will you, or my sinful sowl to glory, + but I'll bundle you downstairs?” + </p> + <p> + “He will be quiet, Pat,” said the stranger. “In truth, after all, this is + a mere physical malady, Mr. Fenton, and will pass away immediately, if you + will only sit down and collect yourself a little.” + </p> + <p> + Fenton, however, made another unavailable attempt at struggle, and found + that he was only exhausting himself to no purpose. All at once, or rather + following up his previous suspicions, he seemed to look upon the powerful + individual who held him, as a person who had become suddenly invested with + a new character that increased his terrors; and yet, if we may say so, + almost forced him into an anxiety to suppress their manifestation. His + limbs, however, began to tremble excessively; his eyes absolutely dilated, + and became filled by a sense of terror, nearly as wild as despair itself. + The transitions of his temper, however, like those of his general conduct, + supervened upon each other with remarkable rapidity, and, as it were, the + result of quick, warm, and inconsiderate impulses. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he exclaimed at length, “I will be quiet, I am, I assure you, + perfectly harmless; but, at the same time,” he added, sitting down, “I + know that the whole dialogue between you and that awful-looking man, was a + plot laid for me. Why else did you insist on my being present at it? This + accounts for your giving me a paltry sum of money, too—it does, sir—and + for your spurious and dishonest humanity in wishing to see me well + clothed. Yes, I perceive it all; but, let what may happen, I will not wear + these clothes any longer. They are not the offering of a generous heart, + but the fraudulent pretext for insinuating yourself into my confidence, in + order to—to—yes, but I shall not say it—it is enough + that I know you, sir—that I see through, and penetrate your + designs.” + </p> + <p> + He was about to put his threat with respect to the clothes into instant + execution, when the stranger, once more seizing him, exclaimed—“You + must promise, Mr. Fenton, before you leave my grasp, that you will make no + further attempt to tear off your dress. I insist on this;” and as he spoke + he fixed his eye sternly and commandingly on that of Fenton. + </p> + <p> + “I will not attempt it,” replied the latter; “I promise it, on the word of + a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “There, then,” said the stranger—“Keep yourself quiet, and, mark me, + I shall expect that you will not violate that word, nor yield to these + weak and silly paroxysms.” + </p> + <p> + Fenton merely nodded submissively, and the other proceeded, still with a + view of sounding him: “You say you know me; if so, who and what am I?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not ask me to speak at further length,” replied Fenton; “I am quite + exhausted, and I know not what I said.” + </p> + <p> + He appeared now somewhat calmer, or, at least, affected to be so. By his + manner, however, it would appear that some peculiar opinion or + apprehension, with reference either to the baronet or the stranger, seemed + as if confirmed, whilst, at the same time, acting under one of his rapid + transitions, he spoke and looked like a man who was influenced by new + motives. He then withdrew in a mood somewhat between sullenness and + regret. + </p> + <p> + When the stranger was left to himself, he paced the room some time in a + state of much anxiety, if not distress. At length he sat down, and, + leaning his head upon his hand, exclaimed unconsciously aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I fear this search is vain. The faint traces of imaginary + resemblance, which I thought I had discovered in this young man's + features, are visible no longer. It is; true, this portrait,” looking once + more at the miniature, “was taken when the original was only a child of + five years; but still it was remarked that the family resemblances were, + from childhood up, both strong and striking. Then, this unfortunate person + is perfectly inscrutable, and not to be managed by any ordinary procedure + at present intelligible to me. Yet,—after all, as far as I have been + able to conjecture, there is a strong similarity in the cases. The feeling + among the people here is, that he is a gentleman by birth: but this may + proceed from the air and manners which he can assume when he pleases. I + would mention my whole design and object at hazard, but this would be + running an unnecessary risk by intrusting my secret to him; and, although + it is evident that he can preserve his own, it does not necessarily follow + that he would keep mine. However, I must only persevere and bide my time, + as the Scotch say.” + </p> + <p> + He again rose, and, pacing the apartment once more, his features assumed a + still deeper expression of inward agitation. + </p> + <p> + “And, again,” he exclaimed, “that unfortunate rencounter! Great Heavens, + what if I stand here a murderer, with the blood of a fellow-creature, + hurried, I fear, in the very midst of his profligacy, into eternity! The + thought is insupportable; and I know not, unless I can strictly preserve + my incognito, whether I am at this moment liable, if apprehended, to pay + the penalty which the law exacts. The only consolation that remains for me + is, that the act was not of my seeking, but arrogantly and imperiously + forced upon me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. The Baronet attempts by Falsehood + </h2> + <h3> + The Baronet attempts by Falsehood to urge his Daughter into an Avowal of + her Lover's Name. + </h3> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay, after his unpleasant interview with the stranger, rode + easily home, meditating upon some feasible plan by which he hoped to + succeed in entrapping his daughter into the avowal of her lover's name, + for he had no doubt whatsoever that the gentleman at the inn and he were + one and the same individual. For this purpose, he determined to put on a + cheerful face, and assume, as far as in him lay, an air of uncommon + satisfaction. Now this was a task of no ordinary difficulty for Sir Thomas + to encounter. The expression of all the fiercer and darker passions was + natural to such a countenance as his; but even to imagine such a one lit + up with mirth, was to conceive an image so grotesque and ridiculous, that + the firmest gravity must give way before it. His frown was a thing + perfectly intelligible, but to witness his smile, or rather his effort at + one, was to witness an unnatural phenomenon of the most awful kind, and + little short of a prodigy. If one could suppose the sun giving a + melancholy and lugubrious grin through the darkness of a total eclipse, + they might form some conception of the jocular solemnity which threw its + deep but comic shadow over his visage. One might expect the whole + machinery of the face, with as much probability as that of a mill, to + change its habitual motions, and turn in an opposite direction. It seemed, + in fact, as if a general breaking up of the countenance was about to take + place, and that the several features, like a crew of thieves and vagabonds + flying from the officers of justice, were all determined to provide for + themselves. + </p> + <p> + Lucy saw at a glance that her father was about to get into one of those + tender and complacent moods which were few and far between, and, made wise + by experience, she very properly conjectured, from his appearance, that + some deep design was concealed under it. Anxious, therefore, to avoid a + prolonged dialogue, and feeling, besides, her natural candor and + invincible love of truth to a certain extent outraged by this treacherous + assumption of cordiality, she resolved to commence the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Has anything agreeable happened; papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Agreeable, Lucy, ahem!—why, yes—something agreeable has + happened. Now, Lucy, poor foolish girl, would it not have been better to + have placed confidence in me with respect to this lover of yours? Who can + feel the same interest in your happiness that I do?” + </p> + <p> + “None, certainly, sir; unless some one whose happiness may probably depend + on mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your lover—well, that now is a natural enough distinction; but + still, you foolish, naughty girl, don't you know that you are to inherit + my wealth and property, and that they will make you happy? You silly + thing, there's a truth for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you yourself happy, papa, when we separated this morning? Are you + happy this moment? Are you generally happy? Is there no rankling anxiety—no + project of ambition—no bitter recollection corroding your heart? + Does the untimely loss of my young brother, who would have represented and + sustained your name, never press heavily upon it? I ask again, Papa, are + you generally happy? Yet you are in possession of all the wealth and + property you speak of.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, nonsense, silly child! Nothing is more ridiculous than to hear a + girl like you, that ought to have no will but mine, reasoning like a + philosopher.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear papa,” proceeded Lucy, “if you should persist in marrying me to + a profligate, merely because he is a nobleman—oh, how often is that + honorable name prostituted!—and could give me a title, don't you see + how wretched I should be, and how completely your wealth and property + would fail to secure my happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well argued, Lucy, only that you go upon wrong principles. To be + sure, I know that young ladies—that is, very young and inexperienced + ladies, somewhat like yourself, Lucy—have, or pretend to have—poor + fools—a horror of marrying those they don't love; and I am aware, + besides, that a man might as well attempt to make a stream run up hill as + combat them upon this topic. As for me, in spite of all my wealth and + property—I say this in deference to you—I am really very happy + this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted to hear it, papa. May I ask, what has contributed to make + you so?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall mention that presently; but, in the mean time, my theory on this + subject is, that, instead of marrying for love, I would recommend only + such persons to contract matrimony as entertain a kind of lurking aversion + for each other. Let the parties commence with, say, a tolerably strong + stock of honest hatred on both sides. Very well; they, are united. At + first, there is a great deal of heroic grief, and much exquisite martyrdom + on the part of the lady, whilst the gentleman is at once, if I may say so, + indifferent and indignant. By and by, however, they become tired of this. + The husband, who, as well as the wife, we shall suppose, has a strong + spice of the devil in him, begins to entertain a kind of diabolical + sympathy for the fire and temper she displays; while she, on the other + hand, comes by degrees to admire in him that which she is conscious of + possessing herself, that is to say, a sharp tongue and an energetic + temperament. In this way, Lucy, they go on, until habit has become a + second nature to them. The appetite for strife has been happily created. + At length, they find themselves so completely captivated by it that it + becomes the charm of their existence. Thenceforth a bewitching and + discordant harmony prevails between them, and they entertain a kind of + hostile affection for each other that is desperately delightful.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you are quite a painter, papa; your picture is admirable; all it + wants is truth and nature.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Lucy; you are quite complimentary, and have made an artist of + me, as artists now go. But is not this much more agreeable and animated + than the sweet dalliance of a sugar-plum life, or the dull, monotonous + existence resembling a Dutch canal, which we term connubial happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, papa, suppose you were to hear me through?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he replied; “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe, sir, that life can present us with anything more + beautiful and delightful than the union of two hearts, two minds, two + souls, in pure and mutual affection, when that affection is founded upon + something more durable than mere beauty or personal attraction—that + is, when it is based upon esteem, and a thorough knowledge of the object + we love.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lucy; but remember there are such things as deceit, dissimulation, + and hypocrisy in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and goodness, and candor, and honor, and truth, and fidelity, papa; + do you remember that? When two beings, conscious, I say, of each other's + virtues—each other's failings, if you will—are united in the + bonds of true and pure affection, how could it happen that marriage, which + is only the baptism of love upon the altar of the heart, should take away + any of the tenderness of this attachment, especially when we reflect that + its very emotions are happiness? Granting that love, in its romantic and + ideal sense, may disappear after marriage, I have heard, and I believe, + that it assumes a holier and still more tender spirit, and reappears under + the sweeter and more beautiful form of domestic affection. The very + consciousness, I should suppose, that our destinies, our hopes, our + objects, our cares—in short, our joys and sorrows, are identical and + mutual, to be shared with and by each other, and that all those delightful + interchanges of a thousand nameless offices of tenderness that spring up + from the on-going business of our own peculiar life—these alone, I + can very well imagine, would constitute an enjoyment far higher, purer, + holier, than mere romantic love. Then, papa, surely we are not to live + solely for ourselves. There are the miseries and wants of others to be + lessened or relieved, calamity to be mitigated, the pale and throbbing + brow of sickness to be cooled, the heart of the poor and neglected to be + sustained and cheered, and the limbs of the weary to be clothed and + rested. Why, papa,” she proceeded, her, dark eye kindling at the noble + picture of human duty she had drawn, “when we take into contemplation the + delightful impression of two persons going thus, hand in hand, through + life, joining in the discharge of their necessary duties, assisting their + fellow-creatures, and diffusing good wherever they go—each + strengthening and reflecting the virtues of the other, may we not well ask + how they could look upon each other without feeling the highest and + noblest spirit of tenderness, affection, and esteem?” + </p> + <p> + “O yes, I was right, Lucy; all romances, all imagination, all honeypot, + with a streak of treacle here and there for the shading,” and, as he + spoke, he committed another felony in the disguise of a horse-laugh, + which, however, came only from the jaws out. + </p> + <p> + “But, papa,” she proceeded, anxious to change the subject and curtail the + interview, “as I said, I trust something agreeable has happened; you seem + in unusually good spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Lucy,” he replied, setting his eyes upon her with an expression + of good-humor that made her tremble—“yes, I was in Ballytrain, and + had an interview with a friend of yours, who is stopping in the 'Mitre.' + But, my dear, surely that is no reason why you should all at once grow so + pale! I almost think that you have contracted a habit of becoming pale. I + observed it this morning—I observe it now; but, after all, perhaps + it is only a new method of blushing—the blush reversed—that is + to say, blushing backwards. Come, you foolish girl, don't be alarmed; your + lover had more sense than you have, and knew when and where to place + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + He rose up now, and having taken a turn or two across the room, approached + her, and in deep, earnest, and what he intended to be, and was, an + impressive and startling voice, added: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Gourlay, he has told me all.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked at him, unmoved as to the information, for she knew it was + false; but she left him nothing to complain of with—regard to her + paleness now. In fact, she blushed deeply at the falsehood he attempted to + impose upon her. The whole tenor and spirit of the conversation was + instantly changed, and assumed for a moment a painful and disagreeable + formality. + </p> + <p> + “To whom do you allude, sir.” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “To the gentleman, madam, to whom you bowed so graciously, and, let me + add, significantly, to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I beg to know, sir, what he has told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Have I not already said that he has told me all? Yes, madam, I have said + so, I think. But come, Lucy,” he added, affecting to relax, “be a good + girl; as you said, yourself, it should not be sir and madam between you + and me. You are all I have in the world—my only child, and if I + appear harsh to you, it is only because I love and am anxious to make you + happy. Come, my dear child, put confidence in me, and rely upon my + affection and generosity.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was staggered for a moment, but only for a moment, for she thoroughly + understood him. + </p> + <p> + “But, papa, if the gentleman you allude to has told you all, what is there + left for me to confide to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the truth is, Lucy, I was anxious to test his sincerity, and to have + your version as well as his. He appears, certainly, to be a gentleman and + a man of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “And if he be a man of honor, papa, how can you require such a test?” + </p> + <p> + “I said, observe, that he appears to be such; but, you know, a man may be + mistaken in the estimate he forms of another in a first interview. Come, + Lucy, do something to make me your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend!” she replied, whilst the tears rose to her eyes. “Alas, papa, + must I hear such language as this from a father's lips? Should anything be + necessary to make that father the friend of his only child? I know not how + to reply to you, sir; you have placed me in a position of almost + unexampled distress and pain. I cannot, without an apparent want of + respect and duty, give expression to what I know and feel.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, you foolish girl, especially when you see me in such good-humor? + Take courage. You will find me more indulgent than you imagine. Imitate + your lover yonder.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, and her eyes sparkled through her tears with shame, but + not merely with shame, for her heart was filled with such an indignant and + oppressive sense of his falsehood as caused her to weep and sob aloud for + two or three minutes. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear child, I repeat—imitate your lover yonder. Confess; + but don't weep thus. Surely I am not harsh to you now?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” she replied, wiping her eyes, “the confidence which you solicit, + it is not in my power to bestow. Do not, therefore, press me on this + subject. It is enough that I have already confessed to you that my + affections are engaged. I will now add what perhaps I ought to have added + before, that this was with the sanction of my dear mamma. Indeed, I would + have said so, but that I was reluctant to occasion reflections from you + incompatible with my affection for her memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother, madam,” he added, his face blackening into the hue of his + natural temper, “was always a poor, weak-minded woman. She was foolish, + madam, and indiscreet, and has made you wicked—trained you up to + hypocrisy, falsehood, and disobedience. Yes, madam, and in every instance + where you go contrary to my will, you act upon her principles. Why do you + not respect truth, Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, sir!” she replied, stung and shocked by his unmanly reflections + upon the memory of her mother, whilst her tears burst out afresh, “I am + this moment weeping for my father's disregard of it.” + </p> + <p> + “How, madam! I am a liar, am I? Oh, dutiful daughter!” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, sir, was all truth, all goodness, all affection. She was at once + an angel and a martyr, and I will not hear her blessed memory insulted by + the very man who, above all others, ought to protect and revere it. I am + not, papa, to be intimidated by looks. If it be our duty to defend the + absent, is it not ten thousand times more so to defend the dead? Shall a + daughter hear with acquiescence the memory of a mother, who would have + died for her, loaded with obloquy and falsehood? No, sir! Menace and abuse + myself as much as you wish, but I tell you, that while I have life and the + power of speech, I will fling back, even into a father's face, the + falsehoods—the gross and unmanly falsehoods—with which he + insults her tomb, and calumniates her memory and her virtues. Do not blame + me, sir, for this language; I would be glad to honor you if I could; I + beseech you, my father, enable me to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “I see you take a peculiar—a wanton pleasure in calling me a liar.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I do not call you a liar; but I know you regard truth no farther + than it serves your own purposes. Have you not told me just now, that the + gentleman in the Mitre Inn has made certain disclosures to you concerning + himself and me? And now, father, I ask you, is there one word of truth in + this assertion? You know there is not. Have you not sought my confidence + by a series of false pretences, and a relation of circumstances that were + utterly without foundation? All this, however, though inexpressibly + painful to me as your daughter, I could overlook without one word of + reply; but I never will allow you to cast foul and cowardly reproach upon + the memory of the best of mothers—upon the memory of a wife of whom, + father, you were unworthy, and whom, to my own knowledge, your harshness + and severity hurried into a premature grave. Oh, never did woman pay so + dreadful a penalty for suffering herself to be forced into marriage with a + man she could not love, and who was unworthy of her affection! That, sir, + was the only action of her life in which her daughter cannot, will not, + imitate her.” + </p> + <p> + She rose to retire, but her father, now having relapsed into all his dark + vehemence of temper, exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Now mark me, madam, before you go. I say you shall sleep under lock and + key this night. I tell you that I shall use the most rigorous measures + with you, the severest, the harshest, that I can devise, or I shall I + break that stubborn will of yours. Do not imagine for one moment that you + shall overcome me, or triumph in your disobedience. No, sooner than you + should, I would break your spirit—I would break your heart” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so, sir. I am ready to suffer anything, provided only you will + forbear to insult the memory of my mother.” + </p> + <p> + With these words she sought her own room, where she indulged in a long fit + of bitter grief. + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay, in these painful contests of temper with his candid + and high-minded daughter, was by no means so cool and able as when engaged + in similar exercitations with strangers. The disadvantage against him in + his broils with Lucy, arose from the fact that he had nothing in this + respect to conceal from her. He felt that his natural temper and + disposition were known, and that the assumption of any and every false + aspect of character, must necessarily be seen through by her, and his + hypocrisy detected and understood. Not so, however, with strangers. When + manoeuvring with them, he could play, if not a deeper, at least a safer + game; and of this he himself was perfectly conscious. Had his heart been + capable of any noble or dignified emotion, he must necessarily have + admired the greatness of his daughter's mind, her indomitable love of + truth, and the beautiful and undying tenderness with which her affection + brooded over the memory of her mother. Selfishness, however, and that low + ambition which places human happiness in the enjoyment of wealth, and + honors, and empty titles, had so completely blinded him to the virtues of + his daughter, and to the sacred character of his own duties as a father, + bound by the first principles of nature to promote her happiness, without + corrupting her virtues, or weakening her moral impressions—we say + these things had so blinded him, and hardened his heart against all the + purer duties and responsibilities of life, that he looked upon his + daughter as a hardened, disobedient girl, dead to the influence of his own + good—the ambition of the world—and insensible to the dignified + position which awaited her among the votaries of rank and fashion. But, + alas, poor man! how little did he know of the healthy and substantial + virtues which confer upon those whose station lies in middle and in humble + life, a benevolent and hearty consciousness of pure enjoyment, + immeasurably superior to the hollow forms of life and conduct in + aristocratic circles, which, like the tempting fruit of the Dead Sea, seem + beautiful to the eye, but are nothing more, when tested by the common + process of humanity, than ashes and bitterness to the taste. We do not now + speak of a whole class, for wherever human nature is, it will have its + virtues as well as its vices; But we talk of the system, which cannot be + one of much happiness or generous feeling, so long as it separates itself + from the general sympathies of mankind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. The Fortune-Teller—An Equivocal Prediction. + </h2> + <p> + The stranger's appearance at the “Mitre,” and the incident which occurred + there, were in a peculiar degree mortifying to the Black Baronet, for so + he was generally called. At this precise period he had projected the close + of the negotiation with respect to the contemplated marriage between Lucy + and Lord Dunroe. Lord Cullamore, whose residence was only a few miles from + Red Hall, had been for some time in delicate health, but he was now + sufficiently recovered to enter upon the negotiation proposed, to which, + were it not for certain reasons that will subsequently appear, he had, in + truth, no great relish; and this, principally on Lucy Gourlay's account, + and with a view to her future happiness, which he did not think had any + great chance of being promoted by a matrimonial alliance with his son. + </p> + <p> + Not many minutes after the interview between Lucy and her father, a + liveried servant arrived, bearing a letter in reply to one from Sir + Thomas, to the following effect: + </p> + <p> + “My Dear Gourlay,—I have got much stronger within the last + fortnight; that is, so far as my mere bodily health is concerned. As I + shall proceed to London in a day or two, it is perhaps better that I + should see you upon the subject of this union, between your daughter and + my son, especially as you seem to wish it so anxiously. To tell you the + truth, I fear very much that you are, contrary to remonstrance, and with + your eyes open to the consequences, precipitating your charming and + admirable Lucy upon wretchedness and disconsolation for the remainder of + her life; and I can tell her, and would if I were allowed, that the + coronet of a countess, however highly either she or you may appreciate it, + will be found but a poor substitute for the want of that affection and + esteem, upon which only can be founded domestic happiness and contentment. + </p> + <p> + “Ever, my dear Gourlay, faithfully yours, + </p> + <p> + “CULLAMORE.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet's face, after having perused this epistle, brightened up as + much as any face of such sombre and repulsive expression could be supposed + to do; but, again, upon taking into consideration what he looked upon as + the unjustifiable obstinacy of his daughter, it became once more stern and + overshadowed. He ground his teeth with vexation as he paced to and fro the + room, as was his custom when in a state of agitation or anger. After some + minutes, during which his passion seemed only to increase, he went to her + apartment, and, thrusting in his head to ascertain that she was safe, he + deliberately locked the door, and, putting the key in his pocket, once + more ordered his horse, and proceeded to Glenshee Castle, the princely + residence of his friend, Lord Cullamore. + </p> + <p> + None of our readers, we presume, would feel disposed to charge our + hardened baronet with any tendency to superstition. That he felt its + influence, however, was a fact; for it may have been observed that there + is a class of minds which, whilst they reject all moral control when any + legitimate barrier stands between them and the gratification of their evil + passions or designs, are yet susceptible of the effects which are said to + proceed from such slight and trivial incidents as are supposed to be + invested with a mysterious and significant influence upon the actions of + individuals. It is not, however, those who possess the strongest passions + that are endowed with the strongest principles, unless when it happens + that these passions are kept in subjection by religion or reason. In fact, + the very reverse of the proposition in general holds true; and, indeed, + Sir Thomas Gourlay was a strong and startling proof of this. In his case, + however, it might be accounted for by the influence over his mind, when + young, of a superstitious nurse named Jennie Corbet, who was a stout + believer in all the superstitious lore which at that time constituted a + kind of social and popular creed throughout the country. It was not that + the reason of Sir Thomas was at all convinced by, or yielded any assent + to, such legends, but a habit of belief in them, which he was never able + properly to throw off, had been created, which left behind it a lingering + impression resulting from their exhibition, which, in spite of all his + efforts, clung to him through life. + </p> + <p> + Another peculiarity of his we may as well mention here, which related to + his bearing while on horseback. It had been shrewdly observed by the + people, that, whilst in the act of concocting any plan, or projecting any + scheme, he uniformly rode at an easy, slow, and thoughtful pace; but, when + under the influence of his angry passions, he dashed along with a fury and + vehemence of speed that startled those whom he met, and caused them to + pause and look after him with wonder. + </p> + <p> + The distance between Red Hall and Glenshee Castle was not more than four + miles; the estates of both proprietors lying, in fact, together. The day + was calm, mild, and breathed of the fragrant and opening odors of spring. + Sir Thomas had nearly measured half the distance at a very slow pace, for, + in truth, he was then silently rehearsing his part in the interview which + was about to take place between him and his noble friend. The day, though + calm, as we said, was nevertheless without sunshine, and, consequently, + that joyous and exhilarating spirit of warmth and light which the vernal + sun floods down upon all nature, rendering earth and air choral with + music, was not felt so powerfully. On the contrary, the silence and gloom + were somewhat unusual, considering the mildness which prevailed. Every + one, however, has experienced the influence of such days—an + influence which, notwithstanding the calm and genial character of the day + itself, is felt to be depressing, and at variance with cheerfulness and + good spirits. + </p> + <p> + Be this as it may, Sir Thomas was proceeding leisurely along, when a turn + of the road brought him at once upon the brow of the small valley from + which the residence of the Cullamore family had its name—Glenshee, + or, in English, the Glen of the Fairies. Its sides were wild, abrupt, and + precipitous, and partially covered with copse-wood, as was the little + brawling stream which ran through it, and of which the eye of the + spectator could only catch occasional glimpses from among the hazel, + dogberry, and white thorn, with which it was here and there covered. In + the bottom, there was a small, but beautiful green carpet, nearly, if not + altogether circular, about a hundred yards in diameter, in the centre of + which stood one of those fairy rings that gave its name and character to + the glen. The place was, at all times, wild, and so solitary that, after + dusk, few persons in the neighborhood wished to pass it alone. On the day + in question, its appearance was still and impressive, and, owing to the + gloom which prevailed, it presented a lonely and desolate aspect, + calculated, certainly, in some degree, to inspire a weak mind with + something of that superstitious feeling which was occasioned by its + supernatural reputation. We said that the baronet came to a winding part + of the road which brought this wild and startling spot before him, and + just at the same moment he was confronted by an object quite as wild and + as startling. This was no-other than a celebrated fortune-teller of that + day, named Ginty Cooper, a middle-aged sibyl, who enjoyed a very wide + reputation for her extraordinary insight into futurity, as well as for + performing a variety of cures upon both men and cattle, by her + acquaintance, it was supposed, with fairy lore, the influence of charms, + and the secret properties of certain herbs with which, if you believed + her, she had been made acquainted by the <i>Dainhe Shee</i>, or good + people themselves. + </p> + <p> + The baronet's first feeling was one of annoyance and vexation, and for + what cause, the reader will soon understand. + </p> + <p> + “Curse this ill-looking wretch,” he exclaimed mentally; “she is the first + individual I have met since I left home. It is not that I regard the + matter a feather, but, somehow, I don't wish that a woman—especially + such a blasted looking sibyl as this—should be the first person I + meet when going on any business of importance.” Indeed, it is to be + observed here, that some of Ginty's predictions and cures were such as, + among an ignorant and credulous people, strongly impressed by the + superstitions of the day, and who placed implicit reliance upon her + prophetic and sanative faculties, were certainly calculated to add very + much to her peculiar influence over them, originating, as they believed, + in her communion with supernatural powers. Her appearance, too, was + strikingly calculated to sustain the extraordinary reputation which she + bore, yet it was such as we feel it to be almost impossible to describe. + Her face was thin, and supernaturally pale, and her features had a + death-like composure, an almost awful rigidity, that induced the spectator + to imagine that she had just risen from the grave. Her thin lips were + repulsively white, and her teeth so much whiter that they almost filled + you with fear; but it was in her eye that the symbol of her prophetic + power might be said to lie. It was wild, gray, and almost transparent, and + whenever she was, or appeared to be, in a thoughtful mood, or engaged in + the contemplation of futurity, it kept perpetually scintillating, or + shifting, as it were, between two proximate objects, to which she seemed + to look as if they had been in the far distance of space—that is, it + turned from one to another with a quivering rapidity which the eye of the + spectator was unable to follow. And yet it was evident on reflection, that + in her youth she must have been not only good-looking, but handsome. This + quick and unnatural motion of the eye was extremely wild and startling, + and when contrasted with the white and death-like character of her teeth, + and the moveless expression of her countenance, was in admirable keeping + with the supernatural qualities attributed to her. She wore no bonnet, but + her white death-bed like cap was tied round her head by a band of clean + linen, and came under her chin, as in the case of a corpse, thus making + her appear as if she purposely assumed the startling habiliments of the + grave. As for the outlines of her general person, they afforded evident + proof—thin and emaciated as she then was—that her figure in + early life must have been remarkable for great neatness and symmetry. She + inhabited a solitary cottage in the glen, a fact which, in the opinion of + the people, completed the wild prestige of her character. + </p> + <p> + “You accursed hag,” said the baronet, whose vexation at meeting her was + for the moment beyond any superstitious impression which he felt, “what + brought you here? What devil sent you across my path now? Who are you, or + what are you, for you look like a libel on humanity?” + </p> + <p> + “If I don't,” she replied, bitterly, “I know who does. There is not much + beauty between us, Thomas Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by Thomas Gourlay, you sorceress?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll come to know that some day before you die, Thomas; perhaps sooner + than you can think or dream of.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you tell that, you irreverent old viper?” + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you much more than that, Thomas,” she replied, showing her + corpse-like teeth with a ghastly smile of mocking bitterness that was + fearful. + </p> + <p> + The Black Baronet, in spite of himself, began to feel somewhat uneasy, + for, in fact, there appeared such a wild but confident significance in her + manner and language that he deemed it wiser to change his tactics with the + woman, and soothe her a little if he could. In truth, her words agitated + him so much that he unconsciously pulled out of his waistcoat pocket the + key of Lucy's room, and began to dangle with it as he contemplated her + with something like alarm. + </p> + <p> + “My poor woman, you must be raving,” he replied. “What could a destitute + creature like you know about my affairs? I don't remember that I ever saw + you before.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not the question, Thomas Gourlay, but the question is, what have + you done with the child of your eldest brother, the lawful heir of the + property and title that you now bear, and bear unjustly.” + </p> + <p> + He was much startled by this allusion, for although aware that the + disappearance of the child in question had been for many long years well + known, yet, involved, as it was, in unaccountable mystery, still the + circumstance had never been forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “That's an old story, my good woman,” he replied. “You don't charge me, I + hope, as some have done, with making away with him? You might as well + charge me with kidnapping my own son, you foolish woman, who, you know, I + suppose, disappeared very soon after the other.” + </p> + <p> + “I know he did,” she replied; “but neither I nor any one else ever charged + you with that act; and I know there are a great many of opinion that both + acts were committed by some common enemy to your house, who wished, for + some unknown cause of hatred, to extinguish your whole family. That is, + indeed, the best defence you have for the disappearance of your brother's + son; but, mark me, Thomas Gourlay—that defence will not pass with + God, with me, nor with your own heart. I have my own opinion upon that + subject, as well as upon many others. You may ask your own conscience, + Thomas Gourlay, but he'll be a close friend of yours that will ever hear + its answer.” + </p> + <p> + “And is this all you had to say to me, you ill-thinking old vermin.” he + replied, again losing his temper. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, “I wish to tell your fortune; and you will do well to + listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, in a milder tone, putting at the same time the key of + Lucy's door again into his pocket, without being in the slightest degree + conscious of it, “if you are, I suppose I must cross your hand with silver + as usual; take this.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, drawing back with another ghastly smile, the meaning of + which was to him utterly undefinable, “from your hand nothing in the shape + of money will ever pass into mine; but listen”—she looked at him for + some moments, during which she paused, and then added—“I will not do + it, I am not able to render good for evil, yet; I will suffer you to run + your course. I am well aware that neither warning nor truth would have any + effect upon you, unless to enable you to prepare and sharpen your plans + with more ingenious villany. But you have a daughter; I will speak to you + about her.” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” said the baronet; “but why not take the silver?” + </p> + <p> + “You will know that one day before you die, too,” said she, “and I don't + think it will smooth your death-bed pillow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you are a very mysterious old lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll now give you a proof of that. You locked in your daughter before you + left home.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas could not for his life prevent himself from starting so visibly + that she observed it at once. + </p> + <p> + “No such thing,” he replied, affecting a composure which he certainly did + not feel; “you are an impostor, and I now see that you know nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What I say is true,” she replied, solemnly, “and you have stated, Thomas + Gourlay, what you know to be a falsehood; I would be glad to discover you + uttering truth unless with some evil intention. But now for your daughter; + you wish to hear her fate?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I do; but then you know nothing. You charge me with falsehood, + but it is yourself that are the liar.” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Will my daughter's husband be a man of title?” he asked, his mind passing + to the great and engrossing object of his ambition. + </p> + <p> + “He will be a man of title,” she replied, “and he will make her a + countess.” + </p> + <p> + “You must take money,” said he, thrusting his hand into his pocket, and + once more pulling out his purse—“that is worth something, surely.” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand again, with a gesture of repulse still more indignant + and frightful than before, and the bitter smile she gave while doing it + again displayed her corpse-like teeth in a manner that was calculated to + excite horror itself. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied the baronet; “I will not press you, only don't make + such cursed frightful grimaces. But with respect to my daughter, will the + marriage be with her own consent?” + </p> + <p> + “With her own consent—it will be the dearest wish of her heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you name her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “I could and will. Lord Dunroe will be the man, and he will make her + Countess of Cullamore.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” replied the other, “I believe you can speak truth, and are + somewhat acquainted with the future. The girl certainly is attached to + him, and I have no doubt the union will be, as you say, a happy one.” + </p> + <p> + “You know in your soul,” she replied, “that she detests him; and you know + she would sacrifice her life this moment sooner than marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then, do you mean.” he asked, “and why do you thus contradict + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Thomas Gourlay,” she replied. “So far as regards either the past + or the future, you will hear nothing further from me to-day; but, mark me, + we shall meet again—-and we have met before.” + </p> + <p> + “That, certainly, is not true,” he said, “unless it might be accidentally + on the highway; but, until this moment, my good woman, I don't remember to + have seen your face in my life.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page350.jpg" + alt="Page 350-- How Will You Be Prepared to Render an Account " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + She looked toward the sky, and pointing her long, skinny finger upwards, + said, “How will you be prepared to render an account of all your deeds and + iniquities before Him who will judge you there!” + </p> + <p> + There was a terrible calmness, a dreadful solemnity on her white, ghastly + features as she spoke, and pointed to the sky, after which she passed on + in silence and took no further notice of the Black Baronet. + </p> + <p> + It is very difficult to describe the singular variety of sensations which + her conversation, extraordinary, wild, and mysterious as it was, caused + this remarkable man to experience. He knew not what to make of it. One + thing was certain, however, and he could not help admitting it to himself, + that, during their short and singular dialogue, she had, he knew not how, + obtained and exercised an extraordinary ascendency over him. He looked + after her, but she was proceeding calmly along, precisely as if they had + not spoken. + </p> + <p> + “She is certainly the greatest mystery in the shape of woman,” he said to + himself, as he proceeded, “that I have ever yet met—that is, if she + be a thing of flesh and blood—for to me she seems to belong more to + death and its awful accessories, than to life and its natural reality. How + in the devil's name could she have known that I locked that obstinate and + undutiful girl up. This is altogether inexplicable, upon principles + affecting only the ordinary powers of common humanity. Then she affirmed, + prophesied, or what you will, that Lucy and Dunroe will be married—willingly + and happily! That certainly is strange, and as agreeable as strange; but I + will doubt nothing after the incident of the locking up, so strangely + revealed to me too, at a moment when, perhaps, no human being knew it but + Lucy and myself. And, what is stranger still, she knows the state of the + girl's affections, and that she at present detests Dunroe. Yet, stay, have + I not seen her somewhere before? She said so herself. There is a faint + impression on me that her face is not altogether unfamiliar to me, but I + cannot recall either time or place, and perhaps the impression is a wrong + one.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. Candor and Dissimulation + </h2> + <p> + Glenshee Castle was built by the father of the then Lord Cullamore, at a + cost of upwards of one hundred thousand pounds. Its general effect and + situation were beautiful, imposing, and picturesque in the extreme. Its + north and east sides, being the principal fronts, contained the state + apartments, while the other sides, for the building was a parallelogram, + contained the offices, and were overshadowed, or nearly altogether + concealed, by trees of a most luxuriant growth. In the east front stood a + magnificent circular tower, in fine proportion with it; whilst an octagon + one, of proportions somewhat inferior, terminated the northern angle. The + front, again, on the north, extending from the last mentioned tower, was + connected with a fine Gothic chapel, remarkable for the beauty of its + stained windows, supervening buttresses, and a belfry at its western + extremity. On the north front, which was the entrance, rose a porch + leading into a vestibule, and from thence into the magnificent hall. From + this sprung a noble stone staircase, with two inferior flights that led to + a corridor, which communicated with a gorgeous suit of bedchambers. The + grand hall communicated on the western side with those rooms that were + appropriated to the servants, and those on the opposite, with the state + apartments, which were of magnificent size and proportions, having all the + wood-work of Irish oak, exquisitely polished. The gardens were in equal + taste, and admirably kept. The pleasure grounds were ornamented with some + of the rarest exotics. On each side of the avenue, as you approached the + castle, stood a range of noble elms, beeches, and oaks intermingled; and, + as you reached the grand entrance, you caught a view of the demesne and + deer-park, which were, and are, among the finest in the kingdom. There was + also visible, from the steps of the hall and front window, the bends of a + sweet, and winding river near the centre of the demesne, spanned by three + or four light and elegant arches, that connected the latter and the + deer-park with each other. Nothing, however, was so striking in the whole + landscape as the gigantic size and venerable appearance of the wood, which + covered a large portion of the demesne, and the patriarchal majesty of + those immense trees, which stood separated from the mass of forest, singly + or in groups, in different parts of it. The evening summer's deep light, + something between gold and purple, as it poured its mellow radiance upon + the green openings between these noble trees, or the evening smoke, as it + arose at the same hour from the chimneys of the keepers' houses among + their branches, were sights worth a whole gallery of modern art. + </p> + <p> + As the baronet approached the castle, he thought again of the woman and + her prophecies, and yielded to their influence, in so far as they assured + him that his daughter was destined to become the proud mistress of all the + magnificence by which he was surrounded. The sun had now shone forth, and + as its clear light fell upon the house, its beautiful pleasure-grounds, + its ornamented lawns, and its stately avenues, he felt that there was + something worth making a struggle for, even at the expense of conscience, + when he contemplated, with the cravings of an ambitious heart, the spirit + of rich and deep repose in which the whole gorgeous spectacle lay. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the hall he rang, and in a few minutes was admitted to his + friend, Lord Cullamore. + </p> + <p> + Lord Cullamore was remarkable for that venerable dignity and graceful + ease, which, after all, can only result from early and constant + intercourse with polished and aristocratic society. This person was + somewhat above the middle size, his eye clear and significant, his + features expressive, and singularly indicative of what he felt or said. In + fact, he appeared to be an intelligent, candid man, who, in addition to + that air bestowed upon him by his rank and position, and which could never + for a moment be mistaken, was altogether one of the best specimens of his + class. He had neither those assumptions of hateful condescension, nor that + eternal consciousness of his high birth, which too frequently degrade and + disgrace the commonplace and vulgar nobleman; especially when he makes the + privileges of his class an offence and an oppression to his inferiors, or + considers it a crime to feel or express those noble sympathies, which, as + a first principle, ought to bind him to that class by whom he lives, and + who constitute the great mass of humanity, from whose toil and labor + originate the happiness of his order. When in conversation, the natural + animation of his lordship's countenance was checked, not only by a polite + and complacent sense of what was due to those with whom he spoke, and a + sincere anxiety to put them at their ease, but evidently by an expression + that seemed the exponent of some undivulged and corroding sorrow. We may + add, that he was affectionate, generous, indolent; not difficult to be + managed when he had no strong purpose to stimulate him; keen of + observation, but not prone to suspicion; consequently often credulous, and + easily imposed upon; but, having once detected fraud or want of candor, + the discovery was certain forever to deprive the offending party of his + esteem—no matter what their rank or condition in life might be. + </p> + <p> + We need scarcely say, therefore, that this, amiable nobleman, possessing + as he did all the high honor and integrity by which his whole life was + regulated, (with one solitary exception, for which his heart paid a severe + penalty,) carried along with him, in his old age, that respect, reverence, + and affection, to which the dignified simplicity of his life entitled him. + He was, indeed, one of those few noblemen whose virtues gave to the + aristocratic spirit, true grace and appropriate dignity, instead of + degrading it, as too many of his caste do, by pride, arrogance, and + selfishness. + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay, on entering the magnificent library to which he was + conducted, found his lordship in the act of attaching his signature to + some papers. The latter received him kindly and graciously, and shook + hands with him, but without rising, for which he apologized. + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all strong, Sir Thomas,” he added; “for although this last + attack has left me, yet I feel that it has taken a considerable portion of + my strength along with it. I am, however, free from pain and complaint, + and my health is gradually improving.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord, do you think you will be able to encounter the fatigue and + difficulties of a journey to London.” replied the other—“Will you + have strength for it?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so; travelling by sea always agreed with and invigorated my + constitution. The weather, too, is fine, and. I will take the long voyage. + Besides, it is indispensable that I should go. This wild son of mine has + had a duel with some one in a shooting gallery—has been severely hit—and + is very ill; but, at the same time, out of danger.” + </p> + <p> + “A duel! Good heavens! My lord, how did it happen.” asked the baronet. + </p> + <p> + “I am not exactly aware of all the particulars; but I think they cannot be + creditable to the parties, or to Dunroe, at least; for one of his friends + has so far overshot the mark as to write to me, for my satisfaction, that + they have succeeded in keeping the affair out of the papers. Now, there + must be something wrong when my son's friends are anxious to avoid + publicity in the matter. The conduct of that young man, my dear Sir + Thomas, is a source of great affliction to me; and I tremble for the + happiness of your daughter, should they be united.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too severe on Dunroe, my lord,” replied the baronet—“It is + better for a man to sow his wild oats in season than out of season. + Besides, you know the proverb, 'A reformed rake,' etc.” + </p> + <p> + “The popularity of a proverb, my good friend, is no proof of its truth; + and, besides, I should wish to place a hope of my son's reformation upon + something firmer and more solid than the strength of an old adage.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know, my lord,” replied the other, “that the instances of + post-matrimonial reformation, if I may use the word, from youthful folly, + are sufficient to justify the proverb. I am quite certain, that, if Lord + Dunroe were united to a virtuous and sensible wife, he would settle down + into the character of a steady, honorable, and independent man. I could + prove this by many instances, even within your knowledge and mine. Why, + then, exclude his lordship from the benefit of a contingency, to speak the + least, which we know falls out happily in so many instances?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you could prove the probability of it, my dear baronet; for, at + present, the case is not susceptible of proof. What you say may be true; + but, on the other hand, it may not; and, in the event of his marrying + without the post-matrimonial reformation you speak of, what becomes of + your daughter's happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I know generous Dunroe so well, my lord, that I would not, even as + Lucy's father, hesitate a moment to run the risk.” + </p> + <p> + “But what says Lucy herself? And how does she stand affected toward him? + For that is the main point. This matter, you know, was spoken over some + few years ago, and conditionally approved of by us both; but my son was + then very young, and had not plunged into that course of unjustifiable + extravagance and profligacy which, to my cost, has disgraced his latter + years. I scorn to veil his conduct, baronet, for it would be dishonorable + under the circumstances between us, and I trust you will be equally candid + in detailing to me the sentiments of your daughter on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I shall unquestionably do so; but Lucy, you must know, is a girl + of a very peculiar disposition. She possesses, in fact, a good deal of her + unworthy father's determination and obstinacy. Urge her with too much + vehemence, and she will resist; try to accelerate her pace, and she will + stand still; but leave her to herself, to the natural and reasonable + suggestions of her excellent sense, and you will get her to do anything.” + </p> + <p> + “That is but a very indifferent character you bestow upon your daughter, + Sir Thomas,” replied his lordship—“I trust she deserves a better one + at your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my lord,” replied the baronet, smiling after his own peculiar + fashion, that is to say, with a kind of bitter sarcasm, “I have as good a + right, I think, to exaggerate the failings of my daughter as you have to + magnify those of your son. But a truce to this, and to be serious: I know + the girl; you know, besides, something about women yourself, my lord, and + I need not say that it is unwise to rely upon the moods and meditations of + a young lady before marriage. Upon the prospect of such an important + change in their position, the best of them will assume a great deal. The + period constitutes the last limited portion of their freedom; and, of + course, all the caprices of the heart, and all the giddy ebullitions of + gratified vanity, manifest themselves so strangely, that it is extremely + difficult to understand them, or know their wishes. Under such + circumstances, my lord, they will, in the very levity of delight, + frequently say 'no,' when they mean 'yes,' and vice versa.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas,” replied his lordship, gravely, “marriage, instead of being + the close, should be the commencement, of their happiness. No woman, + however, of sense, whether before marriage or after it, is difficult to be + understood. Upon a subject of such importance—one that involves the + happiness of her future life—no female possessing truth and + principle would, for one moment, suffer a misconception to exist. Now your + daughter, my favorite Lucy, is a girl of fine sense and high feeling, and + I am at a loss, Sir Thomas, I assure you, to reconcile either one or the + other with your metaphysics. If Miss Gourlay sat for the disagreeable + picture you have just drawn, she must be a great hypocrite, or you have + grossly misrepresented her, which I conceive it is not now your interest + or your wish to do.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord, I was speaking of the sex in general.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” replied his lordship with dignity, “we are here to speak of + your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Our readers may perceive that the wily baronet was beating about the bush, + and attempting to impose upon his lordship by vague disquisitions. He was + perfectly aware of Lord Cullamore's indomitable love of truth, and he + consequently feared to treat him with a direct imposition, taking it for + granted that, if he had, an interview of ten minutes between Lucy and his + lordship might lead to an exposure of his duplicity and falsehood. He felt + himself in a painful and distressing dilemma. Aware that, if the excellent + peer had the slightest knowledge of Lucy's loathing horror of his son, he + would never lend his sanction to the marriage, the baronet knew not + whether to turn to the right or to the left, or, in other words, whether + to rely on truth or falsehood. At length, he began to calculate upon the + possibility of his daughter's ultimate acquiescence, upon the force of his + own unbending character, her isolated position, without any one to + encourage or abet her in what he looked upon as her disobedience, + consequently his complete control over her; having summoned up all those + points together, he resolved to beat about a little longer, but, at all + events, to keep the peer in the dark, and, if pressed, to hazard the + falsehood. He replied, however, to his lordship's last observation: + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, my lord, I thought not of my daughter while I drew the + picture.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied his lordship, smiling, “all I have to say is, that + you are very eloquent in generalities—generalities, too, my friend, + that do not bear upon the question. In one word, is Miss Gourlay inclined + to this marriage? and I beseech you, my dear baronet, no more of these + generalities.” + </p> + <p> + “She is as much so, my lord,” replied the other, “as nineteen women out of + every twenty are in general. But it is not to be expected, I repeat, that + a delicately-minded and modest young creature will at once step forward + unabashed and exclaim, 'Yes, papa, I will marry him.' I protest, my lord, + it would require the desperate heroism of an old maid on the last legs of + hope, or the hardihood of a widow of three husbands, to go through such an + ordeal. We consequently must make allowance for those delicate and + blushing evasions which, after all, only mask compliance.” + </p> + <p> + By this reply the baronet hoped to be able to satisfy his friend, without + plunging into the open falsehood. The old nobleman, however, looked keenly + at him, and asked a question which penetrated like a dagger into the lying + soul within him. + </p> + <p> + “She consents, then, in the ordinary way?” + </p> + <p> + “She does, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the peer, “that, as the world goes, is, perhaps, as much + as can be expected at present. You have not, I dare say, attempted to + force her very much on the subject, and the poor girl has no mother. Under + such circumstances, the delicacy of a young lady is certainly entitled to + a manly forbearance. Have you alluded to Dunroe's want of morals?” + </p> + <p> + “Your opinion of his lordship and mine differ on this point considerably, + my lord,” replied the baronet—“You judge him with the severity of a + father, I with the moderation of a friend. I have certainly made no + allusion to his morals.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, then, you are aware, that it is your duty to do so; as a + father, that it is a most solemn and indispensable duty?” + </p> + <p> + The soul of Sir Thomas Gourlay writhed within him like a wounded serpent, + at the calm but noble truth contained in this apophthegm. He was not, + however, to be caught; the subtlety of his invention enabled him to escape + on that occasion at least. + </p> + <p> + “It has this moment occurred to me, my lord, with reference to this very + point, that it may be possible, and by no means improbable—at least + I for one anxiously hope it—that the recent illness of my Lord + Dunroe may have given him time to reflect upon his escapades and follies, + and that he will rejoin society a wiser and a better man. Under these + expectations, I appeal to your own good sense, my lord, whether it would + be wise or prudent by at present alluding—especially if it be + rendered unnecessary by his reformation—to his want of morals, in + any conversation I may hold with my daughter, and thereby deprive him of + her personal respect and esteem, the only basis upon which true affection + and domestic happiness can safely rest. Let us therefore wait, my lord. + Perhaps the loss of some of his hot blood may have cooled him. Perhaps, + after all,” he added, smiling, “we may have reason to thank his + phlebotomist.” + </p> + <p> + The peer saw Sir Thomas's play, and, giving him another keen glance, + replied: + </p> + <p> + “I never depended much upon a dramatic repentance, my dear baronet. Many a + resolution of amendment has been made on the sick bed; but we know in + general how they are kept, especially by the young. Be this as it may, our + discussion has been long enough, and sufficiently ineffectual. My + impression is, that Miss Gourlay is disinclined to the alliance. In truth, + I dare say she is as well acquainted with his moral reputation as we are—perhaps + better. Dunroe's conduct has been too often discussed in fashionable life + to be a secret to her, or any one else who has access to it. If she reject + him from a principle of virtuous delicacy and honor, she deserves a better + fate than ever to call him husband. But perhaps she may have some other + attachment?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” replied Sir Thomas, rising, “I think I can perceive on which + side the disinclination lies. You have—and pray excuse me for saying + so—studiously thrown, during the present conference, every possible + obstruction in the way of an arrangement on this subject. If your lordship + is determined that the alliance between our families shall not take place, + I pray you to say so. Upon your own showing my daughter will have little + that she ought to regret in escaping Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “And Dunroe would have much to be thankful to God for in securing your + daughter. But, Sir Thomas Gourlay, I will be candid and open with you. + Pray observe, sir, that, during this whole discussion, conference, or what + you will, I did not get out of you a single direct answer, and that upon a + subject involving the life-long happiness of your only child. I tell you, + baronet, that your indirectness of purpose, and—you will excuse me, + too, for what I am about to say, the importance of the subject justifies + me—your evasions have excited my suspicions, and my present + impression is, that Miss Gourlay is averse to a matrimonial union with my + son; that she has heard reports of his character which have justly alarmed + her high-minded sense of delicacy and honor; and that you, her parent, are + forcing her into a marriage which she detests. Look into your own heart, + Sir Thomas, and see whether you are not willing to risk her peace of mind + for the miserable ambition of seeing her one day a countess. Alas! my + friend,” he continued, “there is no talisman in the coronet of a countess + to stay the progress of sorrow, or check the decline of a breaking heart. + If Miss Gourlay be, as I fear she is, averse to this union, do not + sacrifice her to ambition and a profligate. She is too precious a treasure + to be thrown away upon two objects so utterly worthless. Her soul is too + pure to be allied to contamination—her heart too noble, too good, + too generous, to be broken by unavailing grief and a repentance that will + probably come too late.” + </p> + <p> + “If I assure you, my lord, that she is not averse to the match—nay”—and + here this false man consoled his conscience by falling back upon the + prophecy of Ginty Cooper—“if I assure you that she will marry Dunroe + willingly—nay, with delight, will your lordship then rest + satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + “I must depend upon your word, Sir Thomas; am I not in conversation with a + gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, my lord, I assure you that it is so. Your lordship will find, + when the time comes, that my daughter is not only not indisposed to this + union, but absolutely anxious to become your daughter-in-law”—bad as + he was, he could not force himself to say, in so many plain words, “the + wife of your son”—“But, my lord,” he proceeded, “if you will permit + me to make a single observation, I will thank you, and I trust you will + excuse me besides.” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably, Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, my lord, what I have observed during our conversation, with + great pain, is, that you seem to entertain—pardon me, I speak in + good feeling, I assure your lordship—that you seem, I say, to + entertain a very unkind and anything but a parental feeling for your son. + What, after all, do his wild eccentricities amount to more than the + freedom and indulgence in those easy habits of life which his wealth and + station hold out to him with greater temptation than they do to others? I + cannot, my lord, in fact, see anything so monstrous in the conduct of a + young nobleman like him, to justify, on the part of your lordship, + language so severe, and, pardon me, so prejudicial to his character. + Excuse me, my lord, if I have taken a liberty to which I am in nowise + entitled.” Socrates himself could scarcely have assumed a tone more moral, + or a look of greater sincerity, or more anxious interest, than did the + Black Baronet whilst he uttered these words. + </p> + <p> + The peer rose up, and his eye and whole person were marked by an + expression and an air of the highest dignity, not unmingled with deep and + obvious feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay,” said he, “you seem to forget the object of our + conference, and our respective positions.” + </p> + <p> + “My Lord,” exclaimed the other, in a deprecating tone, “I meant no + offence, upon my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “I have taken none,” replied his lordship; “but I must teach you to + understand me. Whatever my son's conduct may be, one thing is evident, + that you are his apologist; now, as a moral man, anxious for the happiness + of your child, I tell you that you ought to have exchanged positions with + me; it is you who, when about to intrust your daughter to him for life, + ought to have investigated his moral character and habits, and manifested + an anxiety to satisfy yourself whether they were such as would reflect + honor upon her, and secure her peace of mind and tranquillity in the + married state. You say, too, that I do not speak of my son in a kind or + parental feeling; but do you imagine, sir, that, engaged as I am here, in + a confidential and important conference, the result of which may involve + the happiness or misery of two persons so dear to us both, I would be + justified in withholding the truth, or lending myself to a course of + dishonorable deception?” + </p> + <p> + He sat down again, and seemed deeply affected. + </p> + <p> + “God knows,” he said, “that I love that wild and unthinking young man, + perhaps more than I ought; but do you imagine, sir, that, because I have + spoken of him with the freedom necessary and due to the importance and + solemnity of our object in meeting, I could or would utter such sentiments + to the world at large? I pray you, sir, then, to make and observe the + distinction; and, instead of assailing me for want of affection as a + parent, to thank me for the candor with which I have spoken.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet felt subdued; it is evident that his mind was too coarse and + selfish to understand the delicacy, the truth, and high, conscientious + feeling with which Lord Cullamore conducted his part of this negotiation. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said the baronet, who thought of another point on which to fall + back, “there is one circumstance, one important fact, which we have both + unaccountably overlooked, and which, after all, holds out a greater + promise of domestic happiness between these young persons than anything we + have thought of. His lordship is attached to my daughter. Now, where there + is love, my lord, there is every chance and prospect of happiness in the + married life.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if it be mutual, Sir Thomas; everything depends on that. I am glad, + however, you mentioned it. There is some hope left still; but alas, alas! + what is even love when opposed to selfishness and ambition? I could—I + myself could——” he seemed deeply moved, and paused for some + time, as if unwilling to trust himself with speech—“Yes, I am glad + you mentioned it, and I thank you, Sir Thomas, I thank you. I should wish + to see these two young people happy. I believe he is attached to your + daughter, and I will now mention a fact which certainly proves it. The + gentleman with whom he fought that unfortunate duel was forced into it by + Dunroe, in consequence of his having paid some marked attentions to Miss + Gourlay, when she and her mother were in Paris, some few months before + Lady Gourlay's decease. I did not wish to mention this before, out of + respect for your daughter; but I do so now, confidentially, of course, in + consequence of the turn our conversation has taken.” + </p> + <p> + Something on the moment seemed to strike the baronet, who started, for he + was unquestionably an able hand at putting scattered facts and + circumstances together, and weaving a significant conclusion from them. + </p> + <p> + “That, my lord, at all events,” said the coarse-minded man, after having + recovered himself, “that is gratifying.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Lord Cullamore, “to make your daughter the cause and + subject of a duel, an intemperate brawl in a shooting gallery. The only + hope I have is, that I trust she was not named.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord, it is, after all, a proof of his affection for her.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship smiled sarcastically, and looked at him with something like + amazement, if not with contempt; but did not deign to reply. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my lord,” continued the baronet, “what is to be the result of + our conference? My daughter will have all my landed property at my death, + and a large marriage-portion besides, now in the funds. I am apparently + the last of my race. The disappearance and death—I take it for + granted, as they have never since been heard of—of my brother Sir + Edward's heir, and very soon after of my own, have left me without a hope + of perpetuating my name; I shall settle my estates upon Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship appeared abstracted for a few moments—“Your brother and + you,” he observed, “were on terms of bitter hostility, in consequence of + what you considered an unequal marriage on his part, and I candidly assure + you, Sir Thomas, that, were it not for the mysterious disappearance of + your own son, so soon after the disappearance of his, it would have been + difficult to relieve you from dark and terrible suspicions on the subject. + As it is, the people, I believe, criminate you still; but that is nothing; + my opinion is, that the same enemy perpetrated the double crime. Alas! the + worst and bitterest of all private feuds are the domestic. There is my own + brother; in a moment of passion and jealousy he challenged me to single + combat; I had sense to resist his impetuosity. He got a foreign + appointment, and there has been a gulf like that of the grave between him + and his, and me and mine, ever since.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my lord,” replied Sir Thomas, his countenance, as he spoke, + becoming black with suppressed rage, “will ever remove the impression from + my mind, that the disappearance or murder of my son was not a diabolical + act of retaliation committed under the suspicion that I was privy to the + removal or death, as the case may be, of my brother's heir; and while I + have life I will persist in charging Lady Gourlay, as I must call her so, + with the crime.” + </p> + <p> + “In that impression,” replied his lordship, “you stand alone. Lady + Gourlay, that amiable, mild, affectionate, and heart-broken woman, is + utterly incapable of that, or any act of cruelty whatsoever. A woman who + is the source of happiness, kindness, relief, and support, to so many of + her humble and distressed fellow-creatures, is not likely to commit or + become accessory in any way to such a detestable and unnatural crime. Her + whole life and conduct render such a supposition monstrous and + incredible.” + </p> + <p> + Both, after he had closed his observations, mused for some time, when the + baronet, rising and pacing to and fro, as was his custom, at length asked—“Well, + my lord, what say you? Are we never to come to a conclusion?” + </p> + <p> + “My determination is simply this, my dear baronet,—that, if you and + Miss Gourlay are satisfied to take Lord Dunroe, with all his imperfections + on his head, I shall give no opposition. She will, unless he amends and + reforms, take him, I grant you, at her peril; but be it so. If the union, + as, you say, will be the result of mutual attachment, in God's name let + them marry. It is possible, we are assured, that the 'unbelieving husband + may be saved by the believing wife.'” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite satisfied, my lord, with this arrangement; it is fair, and + just, and honorable, and I am perfectly willing to abide by it. When does + your lordship propose to return to us?” + </p> + <p> + “I am tired of public life, my dear baronet. My daughter, Lady Emily, who, + you know, has chiefly resided with her maiden aunt, hopes to succeed in + prevailing on her to accompany us to Glenshee Castle, to spend the summer + and autumn, and visit some of the beautiful scenery of this unknown land + of ours. Something, as to time, depends upon Dunroe's convalescence. My + stay in England, however, will be as short as I can make it. I am getting + too old for the exhausting din and bustle of society; and what I want now, + is quiet repose, time to reflect upon my past life, and to prepare myself, + as well as I can, for a new change. Of course, we will be both qualified + to resume the subject of this marriage after my return, and, until then, + farewell, my dear baronet. But mark me—no force, no violence.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas, as he shook hands with him, laughed—“None will be + necessary, my lord, I assure you—I pledge you my honor for that.” + </p> + <p> + The worthy baronet, on mounting his horse, paced him slowly out of the + grounds, as was his custom when in deep meditation. + </p> + <p> + “If I don't mistake,” thought he, “I have a clew to this same mysterious + gentleman in the inn. He has seen and become acquainted with Lucy in + Paris, under sanction of her weak-minded and foolish mother. The girl + herself admitted that her engagement to him was with her consent. Dunroe, + already aware of his attentions to her, becomes jealous, and on meeting + him in London quarrels with him, that is to say, forces him, I should + think, into one;—not that the fellow seems at all to be a coward + either,—but why the devil did not the hot-headed young scoundrel + take steadier aim, and send the bullet through his heart or brain? Had he + pinked him, it would have saved me much vexation and trouble.” + </p> + <p> + He then passed to another train of thought—“Thomas Gourlay,—plain + Thomas Gourlay—what the devil could the corpse-like hag mean by + that? Is it possible that this insane scoundrel will come to light in + spite of me? Would to Heaven that I could ascertain his whereabouts, and + get him into my power once more. I would take care to put him in a place + of safety.” He then touched his horse with the spurs, and proceeded to Red + Hall at a quicker pace. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. A Family Dialogue—and a Secret nearly Discovered. + </h2> + <p> + Our scene must necessarily change to a kind of inn or low tavern, or, as + they are usually denominated, eating-houses, in Little Mary street, on the + north side of the good city of Dublin. These eating-houses were remarkable + for the extreme neatness and cleanliness with which they were kept, and + the wonderful order and regularity with which they were conducted. For + instance, a lap of beef is hung from an iron hook on the door-post, which, + if it be in the glorious heat of summer, is half black with flies, but + that will not prevent it from leaving upon your coat a deep and healthy + streak of something between grease and tallow as you necessarily brush + against it—first, on your going in, and secondly, on your coming + out. + </p> + <p> + The evening was tolerably advanced, and the hour of dinner long past; but, + notwithstanding this, there were several persons engaged in dispatching + the beef and cabbage we have described. Two or three large county Meath + farmers, clad in immense frieze jackets, corduroy knee-breeches, thick + woollen stockings, and heavy soled, shoes, were not so much eating as + devouring the viands that were before them; whilst in another part of the + rooms sat two or three meagre-looking scriveners' clerks, rather out at + elbows, and remarkable for an appearance of something that might, without + much difficulty, be interpreted into habits that could not be reconciled + with sobriety. + </p> + <p> + As there is not much, however, that is either picturesque or agreeable in + the description of such an establishment, we shall pass into an inner + room, where those who wished for privacy and additional comfort might be + entertained on terms somewhat more expensive. We accordingly beg our + readers to accompany us up a creaking pair of stairs to a small backroom + on the first floor, furnished with an old, round oak table, with turned + legs, four or five old-fashioned chairs, a few wood-cuts, daubed with + green and yellow, representing the four seasons, a Christmas carol, + together with that miracle of ingenuity, a reed in a bottle, which stood + on the chimney-piece. + </p> + <p> + In this room, with liquor before them, which was procured from a + neighboring public house—for, in establishments of this kind, they + are not permitted to keep liquor for sale—sat three persons, two men + and a woman. One of the men seemed, at first glance, rather good-looking, + was near or about fifty, stout, big-boned, and apparently very powerful as + regarded personal strength. He was respectably enough dressed, and, as we + said, unless when it happened that he fell into a mood of thoughtfulness, + which he did repeatedly, had an appearance of frankness and simplicity + which at once secured instant and unhesitating good will. When, however, + after putting the tumbler to his lips, and gulping down a portion of it, + and then replacing the liquor on the table, he folded his arms and knitted + his brows, in an instant the expression of openness and good humor changed + into one of deep and deadly malignity. + </p> + <p> + The features of the elder person exhibited a comic contrast between nature + and habit—between an expression of good humor, broad and legible, + which no one could mistake for a moment, and an affectation of + consequence, self-importance, and mock heroic dignity that were + irresistible. He was a pedagogue. + </p> + <p> + The woman who accompanied them we need not describe, having already made + the reader acquainted with her in the person of the female fortune-teller, + who held the mysterious dialogue with Sir Thomas Gourlay on his way to + Lord Cullamore's. + </p> + <p> + “This liquor,” said the schoolmaster, “would be nothing the worse of a + little daicent mellowness and flavor; but, at the same time, we must admit + that, though sadly deficient in a spirit of exhilaration, it bears a + harmonious reference to the beautiful beef and cabbage which we got for + dinner. The whole of them are what I designate as sorry specimens of + metropolitan luxury. May I never translate a classic, but I fear I shall + soon wax aegrotat—I feel something like a telegraphic despatch + commencing between my head and my stomach; and how the communication may + terminate, whether peaceably or otherwise, would require, O divine + Jacinta! your tripodial powers or prophecy to predict. The whiskey, in + whatever shape or under whatever disguise you take it, is richly worthy of + all condemnation.” + </p> + <p> + “I will drink no more of it, uncle,” replied the other man; “it would soon + sicken me, too. This shan't pass; it's gross imposition—and that is + a bad thing to practise in this world. Ginty, touch the bell, will you?—we + will make them get us better.” + </p> + <p> + A smile of a peculiar nature passed over the woman's ghastly features as + she looked with significant caution at her brother, for such he was. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do get better whiskey,” she said; “it's too bad that we should make + my uncle sick from mere kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot exactly say that I am much out of order as yet,” replied the + schoolmaster, “but, as they say, if the weather has not broken, the sky is + getting troubled; I hope it is only a false, alarm, and may pass away + without infliction. If there is any of the minor miseries of life more + trying than another, it is to drink liquor that fires the blood, splits + the head, but basely declines to elevate and rejoice the heart. O, divine + poteen! immortal essence of the <i>hordeum beatum!</i>—which is + translated holy barley—what drink, liquor, or refreshment can be + placed, without the commission of something like small sacrilege, in + parallel with thee! When I think of thy soothing and gradually + exhilarating influence, of the genial spirit of love and friendship which, + owing to thee, warms the heart of man, and not unfrequently of the softer + sex also; when I reflect upon the cheerful light which thou diffusest by + gentle degrees throughout the soul, filling it with generosity, kindness, + and courage, enabling it to forget care and calamity, and all the various + ills that flesh is heir to; when I remember too that thou dost so + frequently aid the inspiration of the bard, the eloquence of the orator, + and changest the modesty of the diffident lover into that easy and + becoming assurance which is so grateful to women, is it any wonder I + should feel how utterly incapable I am, without thy own assistance, to + expound thy eulogium as I ought! Hand that tumbler here, Charley,—bad + as it is, there is no use, as the proverb says, in laving one's liquor + behind them. We will presently correct it with better drink.” + </p> + <p> + Charley Corbet, for such was the name of the worthy schoolmaster's nephew, + laughed heartily at the eloquence of his uncle, who, he could perceive, + had been tampering a little with something stronger than water in the + course of the evening. + </p> + <p> + “What can keep this boy.” exclaimed Ginty; “he knew we were waiting for + him, and he ought to be here now.” + </p> + <p> + “The youth will come,” said the schoolmaster, “and a hospitable youth he + is—<i>me ipso teste</i>, as I myself can bear witness. I was in his + apartments in the <i>Collegium Sanctae Trinitatis</i>, as they say, which + means the blessed union of dulness, laziness, and wealth, for which the + same divine establishment has gained an appropriate and just celebrity—I + say I was in his apartments, where I found himself and a few of his + brother students engaged in the agreeable relaxation of taking a hair of + the same dog that bit them, after a liberal compotation on the preceding + night. Third place, as a scholar! Well! who may he thank for that, I + interrogate. Not one Denis O'Donegan!—O no; the said Denis is an + ignoramus, and knows nothing of the classics. Well, be it so. All I say + is, that I wish I had one classical lick at their provost, I would let him + know what the master of a plantation seminary (*—a periphrasis for + hedge-school) could do when brought to the larned scratch?” + </p> + <p> + “How does Tom look, uncle.” asked Corbet; “we can't say that he has shown + much affection for his friends since he went to college.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you expect it, Charley, my worthy nepos.” said the schoolmaster—“These + sprigs of classicality, when once they get under the wing of the collegium + aforesaid, which, like a comfortable, well-feathered old bird of the + stubble, warms them into what is ten times better than celebrity—<i>videlicet</i>, + snug and independent dulness—these sprigs, I say, especially, when + their parents or instructors happen to be poor, fight shy of the frieze + and caubeen at home, and avoid the risk of resuscitating old associations. + Tom, Charley looks—at least he did when I saw him to-day—very + like a lad who is more studious of the bottle than the book; but I will + not prejudge the youth, for I remember what he was while under my tuition. + If he be as cunning now and assiduous in the prosecution of letters as I + found him—if he be as cunning, as ripe at fiction, and of as + unembarrassed brow as he was in his schoolboy career, he will either hang, + on the one side, or rise to become lord chancellor or a bishop on the + other.” + </p> + <p> + “He will be neither the one nor the other then,” said the prophetess, “but + something better both for himself and his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this by way of the oracular, Ginty?” + </p> + <p> + “You may take it so if you like,” replied the female. + </p> + <p> + “And does the learned page of futurity present nothing in the shape of a + certain wooden engine, to which is attached a dangling rope, in + association with the youth? for in my mind his merits are as likely to + elevate him to the one as to the other. However, don't look like the + pythoness in her fury, Ginty; a joke is a joke; and here's that he may be + whatever you wish him! Ay, by the bones of Maro, this liquor is pleasant + discussion!” We may observe here that they had been already furnished with + a better description of drink—“But with regard to the youth in + question, there is one thing puzzles me, oh, most prophetical niece, and + that is, that you should take it into your head to effect an + impossibility, in other words, to make a gentleman of him; <i>ex quovis + ligno nonfit Mercurius</i>, is a good ould proverb.” + </p> + <p> + “That is but natural in her, uncle,” replied Corbet, “if you knew + everything; but for the present you can't; nobody knows who he is, and + that is a secret that must be kept.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied the pedagogue, “is he not a slip from the Black Baronet, + and are not you, Ginty——?” + </p> + <p> + “Whether the child you speak of,” she replied, “is living or dead is what + nobody knows.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing I know,” said Corbet, “and that is, that I could scald + the heart and soul in the Black Baronet's body by one word's speaking, if + I wished; only the time is not yet come; but it will come, and that soon, + I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Charley,” replied the master; “no violation of sacred ties. Is + not the said Baronet your foster-brother?” + </p> + <p> + “He remembered no such ties when he brought shame and disgrace on our + family,” replied Corbet, with a look of such hatred and malignity as could + rarely be seen on a human countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you live with him, and remain in his confidence so long,” + asked his uncle. + </p> + <p> + “I had my own reasons for that—may be they will be known soon, and + may be they will never be known,” replied his nephew—“Whisht! + there's a foot on the stairs,” he added; “it's this youth, I'm thinking.” + </p> + <p> + Almost immediately a young man, in a college-gown and cap, entered, the + room, apparently the worse for liquor, and approaching the schoolmaster, + who sat next him, slapped his shoulder, exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my jolly old pedagogue, I hope you have enjoyed yourself since I + saw you last? Mr. Corbet, how do you do? And Cassandra, my darling + death-like old prophetess, what have you to predict for Ambrose Gray,” for + such was the name by which he went. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Gray,” said Corbet, “and join us in one glass of punch.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, in half-a-dozen,” replied the student; “for I am always glad to + see my friends.” + </p> + <p> + “But not to come to see them,” said Mrs. Cooper—“However, it doesn't + matter; we are glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose. I hope you are getting on + well at college?” + </p> + <p> + “Third place, eh, my old grinder: are you not proud of me,” said Ambrose, + addressing the schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “I think, Mr. Gray, the pride ought to be on the other side,” replied + O'Donegan, with an affectation of dignity—“but it was well, and I + trust you are not insensible of the early indoctrination you received at—whose + hands I will not say; but I think it might be guessed notwithstanding.” + </p> + <p> + During this conversation, the eyes of the prophetess were fixed upon the + student, with an expression of the deepest and most intense interest. His + personal appearance was indeed peculiar and remarkable. He was about the + middle size, somewhat straggling and bony in his figure; his forehead was + neither good nor bad, but the general contour of his face contained not + within it a single feature with the expression of which the heart of the + spectator could harmonize. He was beetle-browed, his mouth diabolically + sensual, and his eyes, which were scarcely an inch asunder, were sharp and + piercing, and reminded one that the deep-seated cunning which lurked in + them was a thing to be guarded against and avoided. His hands and feet + were large and coarse, his whole figure disagreeable and ungainly, and his + voice harsh and deep. + </p> + <p> + The fortune-teller, as we have said, kept her eyes fixed upon his + features, with a look which seemed to betray no individual feeling beyond + that of some extraordinary and profound interest. She appeared like one + who was studying his character, and attempting to read his natural + disposition in his countenance, manner, and conversation. Sometimes her + eye brightened a little, and again her death-like face became overshadowed + with gloom, reminding one of that strange darkness which, when the earth + is covered with snow, falls with such dismal effect before an approaching + storm. + </p> + <p> + “I grant you, my worthy old grinder, that you did indoctrinate me, as you + say, to some purpose; but, my worthy old grinder, again I say to you, + that, by all the gerunds, participles, and roots you ever ground in your + life, it was my own grinding that got me the third place in the + scholarship.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Ambrose,” rejoined the pedagogue, who felt disposed to draw in + his horns a little, “one thing is clear, that, between us both, we did it. + What bait, what line, what calling, or profession in life, do you propose + to yourself, Mr. Ambrose? Your course in college has been brilliant so + far, thanks to—ahem—no matter—you have distinguished + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I have carried everything before me,” replied Ambrose—“but what + then? Suppose, my worthy old magister, that I miss a fellowship—why, + what remains, but to sink down into a resident mastership, and grind + blockheads for the remainder of my life? But what though I fail in + science, still, most revered and learned O'Donegan, I have ambition—ambition—and, + come how it may, I will surge up out of obscurity, my old buck. I forgot + to tell you, that I got the first classical premium yesterday, and that I + am consequently—no, I didn't forget to tell you, because I didn't + know it myself when I saw you to-day. Hip, hip—hurra!” + </p> + <p> + His two male companions filled their glasses, and joined him heartily. + O'Donegan shook him by the hand, so did Corbet, and they now could + understand the cause of his very natural elevation of spirits. + </p> + <p> + “So you have all got legacies,” proceeded Mr. Ambrose; “fifty pounds + apiece, I hear, by the death of your brother, Mr. Corbet, who was steward + to Lady Gourlay—I am delighted to hear it—hip, hip, hurra, + again.” + </p> + <p> + “It's true enough,” observed the prophetess, “a good, kind-hearted man was + my poor brother Edward.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that old scoundrel of a Black Baronet in your neighborhood—Sir + Thomas—he who murdered his brother's heir?” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, Mr. Ambrose, don't say so. Don't you know that he got + heavy damages against Captain Furlong for using the same words?” + </p> + <p> + “He be hanged,” said the tipsy student; “he murdered him as sure as I sit + at this table; and God bless the worthy, be the same man or woman, who + left himself, as he left his brother's widow, without an heir to his + ill-gotten title and property.” + </p> + <p> + The fortune-teller rose up, and entreated him not to speak harshly against + Sir Thomas Gourlay, adding, “That, perhaps, he was not so bad as the + people supposed; but,” she added, “as they—that is, she and her + brother—happened to be in town, they were anxious to see him (the + student); and, indeed, they would feel obliged if he came with them into + the front room for ten minutes or so, as they wished to have a little + private conversation with him.” + </p> + <p> + The change in his features at this intimation was indeed surprising. A + keen, sharp sense of self-possession, an instant recollection of his + position and circumstances, banished from them, almost in an instant, the + somewhat careless and tipsy expression which they possessed on his + entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said he—“Mr. O'Donegan, will you take care of yourself + until we return?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of it,” replied the pedagogue, as they left the room, “I shall + not forget myself, no more than that the image and superscription of Sir + Thomas Gourlay, the Black Baronet, is upon your diabolical visage.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of ten minutes, the conference between the parties in the next + room lasted for more than an hour, during which period O'Donegan did not + omit to take care of himself, as he said. The worthy pedagogue was one of + those men, who, from long habit, can never become tipsy beyond a certain + degree of elevation, after which, no matter what may be the extent of + their indulgence, nothing in the shape of liquor can affect them. When + Gray and his two friends returned, they found consequently nothing but + empty bottles before them, whilst the schoolmaster viewed them with a kind + of indescribable steadiness of countenance, which could not be exactly + classed with either drunkenness or sobriety, but was something between + both. More liquor, however, was ordered in, but, in the meantime, + O'Donegan's eyes were fastened upon Mr. Gray with a degree of surprise, + which, considering the change in the young man's appearance, was by no + means extraordinary. Whatever the topic of their conversation may have + been, it is not our purpose at present to disclose; but one thing is + certain, that the transition which took place in Gray's features, as well + as in his whole manner, was remarkable almost beyond belief. This, as we + have said, manifested itself in some degree, on hearing that Corbet and + his sister had something to say to him in the next room. Now, however, the + change was decided and striking. All symptoms of tipsy triumph, arising + from his success in college, had completely disappeared, and were replaced + by an expression of seriousness and mingled cunning, which could not + possibly escape observation. There was a coolness, a force of reflection, + a keen, calm, but agitated lustre in his small eyes, that was felt by the + schoolmaster to be exceedingly disagreeable to contemplate. In fact, the + face of the young man was, in a surprising degree, calculating and + sinister. A great portion of its vulgarity was gone, and there remained + something behind that seemed to partake of a capacity for little else than + intrigue, dishonesty, and villany. It was one of those countenances on + which, when moved by the meditations of the mind within, nature frequently + expresses herself as clearly as if she had written on it, in legible + characters, 'Beware of this man'. + </p> + <p> + After a little time, now that the object of this mysterious meeting had + been accomplished, the party separated. + </p> + <p> + We mentioned that Corbet and Sir Thomas Gourlay were foster-brothers—a + relation which, in Ireland and the Highlands of Scotland, formed the basis + of an attachment, on the part of the latter, stronger, in many instances, + than that of nature itself. Corbet's brother stood also to him in the same + relation as he did to the late Sir Edward Gourlay, under whom, and + subsequently under his widow, he held the situation of house-steward until + his death. Edward Corbet, for his Christian name had been given him after + that of his master—his mother having nursed both brothers—was + apparently a mild, honest, affectionate man, trustworthy and respectful, + as far, at least, as ever could be discovered to the contrary, and, + consequently, never very deep in the confidence of his brother Charles, + who was a great favorite with Sir Thomas, was supposed to be very deeply + in his secrets, and held a similar situation in his establishment. It was + known, or at least supposed, that his brother Edward, having lived since + his youth up with a liberal and affectionate master, must have saved a + good deal of money; and, as he had never married, of course his brother, + and also his sister—the fortune-teller—took it for granted + that, being his nearest relations, whatever savings he had put together, + must, after his death, necessarily pass into their hands. He was many + years older than either, and as they maintained a constant and deferential + intercourse with him—studied all his habits and peculiarities—and + sent him, from time to time, such little presents as they thought might be + agreeable to him, the consequence was, that they maintained their place in + his good opinion, so far at least as to prevent him from leaving the + fruits of his honest and industrious life to absolute strangers. Not that + they inherited by any means his whole property, such as it was, several + others of his relatives received more or less, but his brother, sister, + and maternal uncle—the schoolmaster—were the largest + inheritors. + </p> + <p> + The illness of Edward Corbet was long and tedious; but Lady Gourlay + allowed nothing to be wanting that could render his bed of sickness or + death easy and tranquil, so far as kindness, attention, and the ministry + of mere human comforts could effect it. During his illness, his brother + Charles visited him several times, and had many private conversations with + him. And it may be necessary to state here, that, although these two + relatives had never lived upon cold or unfriendly terms, yet the fact was + that Edward felt it impossible to love Charles with the fulness of a + brother's affection. The natural disposition of the latter, under the + guise of an apparently good-humored and frank demeanor, was in reality + inscrutable. + </p> + <p> + Though capable, as we said, of assuming a very different character + whenever it suited his purpose, he was nevertheless a man whose full + confidence was scarcely ever bestowed upon a human being. Such an + individual neither is nor can be relished in society; but it is precisely + persons of his stamp who are calculated to win their way with men of + higher and more influential position in life, who, when moved by ambition, + avarice, or any other of the darker and more dangerous passions of our + nature, feel an inclination, almost instinctive, to take such men into + their intrigues and deliberations. The tyrant and oppressor discovers the + disposition and character of his slave and instrument with as much + sagacity as is displayed by the highly bred dog that scents out the game + of which the sportsman is in pursuit. In this respect, however, it not + unfrequently happens, that even those who are most confident in the + penetration with which they make such selections, are woefully mistaken in + the result. + </p> + <p> + We allude particularly to the death of Edward Corbet, at this stage of our + narrative, because, from that event, the train of circumstances which + principally constitute the body of our narrative originated. + </p> + <p> + His brother had been with him in the early part of the day on which he + breathed his last. On arriving at the mansion in Merrion square, he met + Lady Gourlay on the steps of the hall door, about to enter her carriage. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you are come, Corbet,” she said—“Your poor brother has + been calling for you—see him instantly—for his sands are + numbered. The doctor thinks he cannot pass the turn of the day.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless your ladyship,” replied Corbet, “for your uncommon kindness and + attention to him during his long and severe illness. All that could be + done for a person in his circumstances, your ladyship did; and I know he + is deeply sensible of it, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “It was only my duty, Corbet,” she replied, “to a true-hearted and + faithful servant, for such he was to our family. I could not forget the + esteem in which his master, my dear husband, held him, nor the confidence + which he never failed, and justly, to repose in him. Go immediately to + him, for he has expressed much anxiety to see you.” + </p> + <p> + His brother, indeed, found him hovering on the very brink of the grave. + What their conversation was, we know not, unless in so far as a portion of + it at least may be inferred from the subsequent circumstances of our + story. After having spent about an hour with him, his brother, who, it + seems, had some pressing commissions to execute for Sir Thomas, was + obliged to leave him for a time, but promised to return as soon as he + could, get them discharged. In the meantime, poor Corbet sank rapidly + after Charles's departure, and begged, with a degree of anguish that was + pitiable, to see Lady Gourlay, as he had something, he said, of the utmost + importance to communicate to her. Lady Gourlay, however, had gone out, and + none of the family could give any opinion as to the period of her return; + whilst the dying man seemed to experience a feeling that amounted almost + to agony at her absence. In this state he remained for about three hours, + when at length she returned, and found him with the mild and ghastly + impress of immediate death visible in his languid, dying eyes, and hollow + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “They tell me you wish to see me, Corbet,” she said—“If there is + anything that can be done to soothe your mind, or afford you ease and + comfort in your departing hour, mention it, and, if it be within our + power, it shall be done.” + </p> + <p> + He made an effort to speak, but his voice was all but gone. At length, + after several efforts, he was able to make, her understand that he wished + her to bend down her head to him; she did so; and in accents that were + barely, and not without one or two repetitions, intelligible, he was able + to say, “Your son is living, and Sir Thomas knows——” + </p> + <p> + Lady Gourlay was of a feminine, gentle, and quiet disposition, in fact, a + woman from whose character one might expect, upon receiving such a + communication, rather an exhibition of that wild and hysteric excitement + which might be most likely to end in a scream or a fainting fit. Here, + however, the instincts of the defrauded heart of the bereaved and + sorrowing mother were called into instant and energetic life. The physical + system, instead of becoming relaxed or feeble, grew firm and vigorous, and + her mind collected and active. She saw, from the death-throes of the man, + that a single moment was not to be lost, and instantly, for her mouth was + still at his ear, asked, in a distinct and eager voice, “Where, Corbet, + where? for God's mercy, where? and what does Sir Thomas know?” + </p> + <p> + The light and animation of life were fast fading from his face; he + attempted to speak again, but voice and tongue refused to discharge their + office—he had become speechless. Feeling conscious, however, that he + could not any longer make himself understood by words, he raised his + feeble hand, and attempted to point as if in a certain direction, but the + arm fell powerlessly down—he gave a deep sigh and expired. + </p> + <p> + Thus far only can we proceed at present. How and why the stranger makes + his appearance at Ballytrain, and whether in connection with this incident + or not, are circumstances which we will know in due time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. The Stranger's Visit to Father MacMalum. + </h2> + <p> + The stranger, after Fenton had gone, began to feel that it was impossible + either to wheedle or extort any information whatsoever, whether of + importance or otherwise, from that extraordinary and not very sane + individual. That, however, there was a deep mystery about him, be it what + it might, he could not, for a moment, doubt; and, for this reason, he + resolved by no means to relax his exertions, or suffer Fenton, if he could + fairly prevent it, to slip through his fingers. His unaccountable conduct + and terror, during, as well as after, his own angry altercation with the + baronet, went, in his opinion, strongly to connect him, in some manner, + with that unscrupulous man. But how to develop the nature of this + connection constituted the very difficulty which not only disappointed but + mortified him. + </p> + <p> + “I will call upon Birney,” thought he; “he is acute and sensible, and + probably, from his greater experience of life, will be able to throw out + some hint that may be valuable, and enable me to proceed with more + effect.” + </p> + <p> + We have already said, that it was somewhat difficult to commonplace + observers to determine his (the stranger's) exact position in society by a + first glance at his dress. This ambiguity of appearance, if, after all, it + could properly be called so, was assumed for the express purpose of + avoiding observation as much as possible. The fact, however, of finding + that his desire to remain unnoticed had been not merely observed and + commented on, but imputed to him almost as a crime, determined him no + longer to lie <i>perdu</i> in his inn, but to go abroad, and appear in + public like another; whilst, at the same time, his resolution remained + fixed as ever, for various reasons, to conceal his name. The moment, + therefore, he had made up his mind to this course, that assumed restraint + of manner and consciousness of not being what we appear to be were + completely thrown aside, and the transition which ensued was indeed + extraordinary. His general deportment became at once that of a perfect + gentleman, easy, elegant, if not absolutely aristocratic; but without the + slightest evidence of anything that could be considered supercilious or + offensive. His dress was tastefully within the fashion, but not in its + extreme, and his admirable figure thus displayed to the best advantage; + whilst his whole person was utterly free from every symptom of affectation + or foppery. Nor was the change in the tone of his features less striking. + Their style of beauty was at once manly and intellectual, combining, as + they did, an expression of great sweetness, obvious good sense, and + remarkable determination. He bore, in fact, the aspect of a man who could + play with a child on the green, or beard a lion in his lair. + </p> + <p> + The sagacity of the Irish people, in the estimate they form of personal + appearance and character, is, indeed, very extraordinary. Our friend, the + stranger, when casting his eye over the town of Ballytrain, on his way to + have an interview with Birney, who, we may as well observe, was in his + confidence, perceived that it was market-day. As he went out upon the + street, a crowd of persons were standing opposite the inn door, where an + extensive yarn market, in these good old times, was always held; and we + need scarcely say that his gentlemanly and noble figure, and the striking + elegance of his manner, at once attracted their attention. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said one of them, “there goes a real gintleman, begad, at any + rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a lie in that,” added another; “there's no mistakin' the true + blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he,” asked a third—“Does nobody know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth,” said the other, “it doesn't signify a traneen who or what he is; + whether he's gentle or simple, I say that the whole country ought to put + their heads under his feet.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, Jemmy Trailcudgel,” asked a fourth; “what did he do for the + counthry?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you that, Micky,” replied the other—“The Black Baronet, + bad luck to him, came to the inn where he stops, and insisted, right or + wrong, on knowing who and what he was.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't put it past him, the turk o' blazes! Well, an' what happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the gintleman got up, and tuck a hoult o' the black villain by the + nose, led him to the head of the stairs, then turned him down before him, + and made his feet right and left play against the barrow knight, like the + tucks of a cloth mill, until he thrundled him clane—I'm not so sure + of that, though—out o' the hall door.” + </p> + <p> + “An' for that same, God prosper him! Begad, he's a bully gentleman,” + observed a stout, frieze-coated fellow, with a large bunch of green linen + yarn on his lusty arm—“he is, and it's in him, and upon him, as + every one that has eyes to see may know.” + </p> + <p> + The object of their praise, on entering the office of his friend Birney, + found him at his desk, with professional papers and documents before him. + After the ordinary greetings of the day, and an accurate account of the + baronet's interview with him, the stranger introduced the topic in which + he felt so deep an interest. + </p> + <p> + “I am unfortunate, Mr. Birney,” said he; “Fenton, notwithstanding his + eccentricity, insanity, or whatever it may be termed, seems to suspect my + design, and evades, with singular address, every attempt, on my part, to + get anything out of him. Is he absolutely deranged, think you? For, I + assure you, I have just now had a scene with him, in which his conduct and + language could proceed from nothing short of actual insanity. A little + affected with liquor he unquestionably was, when he came in first. The + appearance, however, of Sir Thomas not only reduced him to a state of + sobriety, but seemed to strike him with a degree of terror altogether + inexplicable.” + </p> + <p> + “How was that,” asked Birney. + </p> + <p> + The stranger accordingly described the scene between himself and Fenton, + with which the reader is acquainted. + </p> + <p> + “He is not a madman, certainly, in the ordinary sense of the word,” + replied Birney, after a pause; “but, I think, he may be called a kind of + lunatic, certainly. My own opinion is, that, whatever insanity he may be + occasionally afflicted with results more from an excessive indulgence in + liquor than from any other cause. Be that, however, as it may, there is no + question but that he is occasionally seized with fits of mental + aberration. From what you tell me, and his exaggerated suspicions of a + plot between you and Sir Thomas Gourlay, I think it most probable that he + is your man still.” + </p> + <p> + “I, too, think it probable,” replied the stranger; “but, alas, I think it + possible he may not. On comparing his features with the miniature, I + confess I cannot now trace the resemblance which my sanguine imagination—and + that only, I fear—first discovered.” + </p> + <p> + “But, consider, sir, that that miniature was taken when the original of it + was only five or six years of age; and you will also recollect that + growth, age, education, and peculiar habits of life, effect the most + extraordinary changes in the features of the same individual. No, sir, I + would not advise you to feel disheartened by this.” + </p> + <p> + “But, can you fall upon no hint or principle, Mr. Birney, by which I might + succeed in unlocking the secret which this young man evidently possesses?” + </p> + <p> + “All I can recommend to you, sir, is comprised within one word—patience. + Mark him well; ingratiate yourself with him; treat him with kindness; + supply his wants; and I have no doubt but you may ultimately win upon his + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there no sagacious old person in the neighborhood, no senachie or + genealogist, to whom you could refer me, and from whose memory of past + events in this part of the country I might be able to gain something to + guide me?” + </p> + <p> + “There is one woman,” replied Birney, “who, were she tractable as to the + past as she is communicative of the future, could furnish you more details + of family history and hereditary scandal than any one else I can think of + just now. Some of her predictions—for she is a fortune-teller—have + certainly been amazing.” + </p> + <p> + “The result, I have no doubt,” replied the other, “of personal + acquaintance with private occurrences, rendered incredible under ordinary + circumstances, in consequence of her rapid transitions from place to + place. I shall certainly not put myself under the guidance of an impostor, + Mr. Birney.” + </p> + <p> + “In this case, sir, I think you are right; for it has been generally + observed that, in no instance, has she ever been known to make any + reference to the past in her character of fortune-teller. She affects to + hold intercourse with the fairies, or good people, as we term them, and + insists that it is from them that she derives the faculty of a prophetess. + She also works extraordinary cures by similar aid, as she asserts. The + common impression is, that her mind is burdened with some secret guilt, + and that it relieves her to contemplate the future, as it regards temporal + fate, but that she dares not look back into the past. I know there is + nothing more certain than that, when asked to do so, in peculiar moods of + mind, she manifests quite as much of the maniac as poor Fenton.” + </p> + <p> + “Away with the old impostress!” exclaimed the stranger; “I will have none + of her! Can you think of no one else?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you have not had time to become acquainted with our parish + priest?” replied Birney. “Since 'Aroint thee, witch,' is your creed, I + think you had better try him.” + </p> + <p> + “Not an unnatural transition,” replied the stranger, smiling; “but what is + he like? Give me an outline.” + </p> + <p> + “He is named the Rev. Peter M'Mahon,and I forewarn you, that you are as + likely, if he be not in the mood, to get such a reception as you may not + relish. He is somewhat eccentric and original, but, at the same time, his + secret piety and stolen benevolence are beyond all question. With his + limited means, the good he does is incalculable. He is, in fact, simple, + kind-hearted, and truly religious. In addition to all, he is a + considerable bit of a humorist; when the good man's mind is easy, his + humor is kindly, rich, and mellow; but, when any way in dudgeon, it is + comically sarcastic.” + </p> + <p> + “I must see this man,” said the stranger; “you have excited my curiosity. + By all accounts he is worth a visit.” + </p> + <p> + “He is more likely to serve you in this matter than any one I know,” said + the attorney; “or, if he can't himself, perhaps he may find out those that + can. Very little has happened in the parish within the last thirty-five + years with which he is not acquainted.” + </p> + <p> + “I like the man,” replied the other, “from your description of him.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events, you would if you knew him,” replied Birney. “He is both a + good priest and a good man.” + </p> + <p> + He then directed him to the worthy clergy-man's residence, which was not + more than a mile and a half from the town, and the stranger lost little + time in reaching it. + </p> + <p> + On approaching the house, he was much struck with the extraordinary air of + neatness, cleanliness, and comfort, which characterized not only the house + itself, but everything about it. A beautiful garden facing the south, + stretched down to the left, as you approached the elegant little + whitewashed dwelling, which, placed on a green knoll, literally shone for + miles over the beautiful and serene country by which it was surrounded. + Below it, to the south, between firm green banks and meadows, wound a + beautiful river, and to the north rose one of the most picturesque hills, + probably, in the kingdom; at the hip of which was a gloomy, precipitous + glen, which, for wildness and solitary grandeur, is unrivalled by anything + of the kind we have seen. On the top of the hill is a cave, supposed to be + Druidical, over which an antiquarian would dream half a life; and, indeed, + this is not to be wondered at, inasmuch as he would find there some of the + most distinctly traced Ogham characters to be met with in any part of the + kingdom. + </p> + <p> + On entering the house, our nameless friend found the good priest in what a + stranger might be apt to consider a towering passion. + </p> + <p> + “You lazy bosthoon,” said he, to a large, in fact to a huge young fellow, + a servant, “was it to allow the pigs, the destructive vagabonds, to turn + up my beautiful bit of lawn that I undertook to give you house-room, + wages, and feeding—eh? and a bitther business to me the same feeding + is. If you were a fellow that knew when he had enough, I could bear the + calamity of keeping you at all. But that's a subject, God help you, and + God help me too that has to suffer for it, on which your ignorance is + wonderful. To know when to stop so long as the blessed victuals is before + you is a point of polite knowledge you will never reach, you immaculate + savage. Not a limb about you but you'd give six holidays to out of the + seven, barrin' your walrus teeth, and, if God or man would allow you the + fodder, you'd give us an elucidation of the perpetual motion. Be off, and + get the strongest set of rings that Jemmy M'Quade can make for those + dirty, grubbing bastes of pigs. The Lord knows I don't wondher that the + Jews hated the thieves, for sure they are the only blackguard animals that + ever committed suicide, and set the other bastes of the earth such an + unchristian example. Not that a slice of ham is so bad a thing in itself, + especially when it is followed by a single tumbler of poteen punch.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, masther, I didn't see the pigs, or they'd not have my sanction to + go into the lawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a thing ever you see, or wish to see, barring your dirty victuals.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, sir,” said the stranger, much amused in the meantime, but with + every courtesy of manner, “that my request for a short interview does not + come at an unseasonable hour?” + </p> + <p> + “And, do you hear me, you bosthoon,” proceeded his reverence—this, + however, he uttered sotto voce, from an apprehension lest the stranger + should hear his benevolent purposes—“did you give the half crown to + Widow Magowran, whose children, poor creatures, are lying ill of fever?” + </p> + <p> + Not a word to the stranger, who, however, overheard him. + </p> + <p> + “I did, plaise your reverence,” replied the huge servant. + </p> + <p> + “What did she say,” asked the other, “when you slipped it to her?” + </p> + <p> + “She said nothing, sir, for a minute or so, but dropped on her knees, and + the tears came from her eyes in such a way that I couldn't help letting + down one or two myself. 'God spare him,' she then said, 'for his piety and + charity makes him a blessin' to the parish.' Throth, I couldn't help + lettin' down a tear or two myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't now.” exclaimed the simple-hearted priest; “why, then, I + forgive you the pigs, you great, good-natured bosthoon.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger now thought that he might claim some notice from his + reverence. + </p> + <p> + “I fear, sir,” said he— + </p> + <p> + “And whisper, Mat,” proceeded the priest—paying not the slightest + attention to him, “did you bring the creel of turf to poor Barney Farrell + and his family, as I desired you?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, your reverence, and put a good heap on it for the creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I forgive you the pigs!” exclaimed the benevolent priest, satisfied + that his pious injunctions had been duly observed, and extending a portion + of his good feeling to the instrument; “and as for the appetite I spoke + of, sure, you good-natured giant you, haven't you health, exercise, and a + most destructive set of grinders? and, indeed, the wonder would be if you + didn't make the sorrow's havoc at a square of bacon; so for heaping the + creel I forgive you the digestion and the pigs both.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you permit me.” interposed the stranger, a third time. + </p> + <p> + “But listen again,” proceeded his reverence, “did you bring the bread and + broth to the poor Caseys, the creatures?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” replied Mat, licking his lips, as the stranger thought, “it was + Kitty Kavanagh brought that; you know you never trust me wid the vittles—ever + since—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I ought to have remembered that notorious fact. There's where your + weakness is strongest, but, indeed, it is only one of them; for he that + would trust you with the carriage of a bottle of whiskey might be said to + commit a great oversight of judgment. With regard to the victuals, I once + put my trust in God, and dispatched you, after a full meal, with some + small relief to a poor family, in the shape of corned beef and greens, and + you know the sequel, that's enough. Be off now, and get the rings made as + I desired you.” + </p> + <p> + He then turned to the stranger, whom he scanned closely; and we need + hardly assure our reader that the other, in his turn, marked the worthy + priest's bearing, manner, and conversation with more than usual curiosity. + The harmless passion in which he found him—his simple but touching + benevolence, added to the genuine benignity with which he relaxed his + anger against Mat Euly, the gigantic servant, because he told him that he + had put a heap upon the creel of turf which he brought to poor Barney + Farrell and his family, not omitting the tears he represented himself to + have shed from Christian sympathy with Widow Magowran, both of which acts + were inventions of the purest water, resorted to in order to soften the + kind-hearted priest; all this, we say, added to what he had heard from + Birney, deeply interested the stranger in the character of Father Peter. + Nor was he less struck by his appearance. Father MacMahon was a round, + tight, rosy-faced little man, with laughing eyes, full of good nature, and + a countenance which altogether might be termed a title-page to + benevolence. His lips were finely cut, and his well-formed mouth, though + full of sweetness, was utterly free from every indication of sensuality or + passion. Indeed, it was at all times highly expressive of a disposition + the most kind and placable, and not unfrequently of a comical spirit, that + blended with his benevolence to a degree that rendered the whole cast of + his features, as they varied with and responded to the kindly and natural + impulses of his heart, a perfect treat to look upon. That his heart and + soul were genuinely Irish, might easily be perceived by the light of humor + which beamed with such significant contagion from every feature of his + face, as well as by the tear which misery and destitution and sorrow never + failed to bring to his cheek, thus overshadowing for a time, if we may say + so, the whole sunny horizon of his countenance. But this was not all; you + might read there a spirit of kindly sarcasm that was in complete keeping + with a disposition always generous and affectionate, mostly blunt and + occasionally caustic. Nothing could exceed the extreme neatness with which + he attended to his dress and person. In this point he was scrupulously + exact and careful; but this attention to the minor morals was the result + of anything but personal pride, for we are bound to say, that, with all + his amiable eccentricities, more unaffected humility never dwelt in the + heart of a Christian minister. + </p> + <p> + He had, in fact, paid little or no attention to the stranger until Mat + Ruly went out; when, on glancing at him with more attention, he perceived + at once that he was evidently a person of no ordinary condition in life. + </p> + <p> + “I have to ask your pardon, sir,” said he, “for seeming to neglect you as + I did, but the truth is, I was in a white heat of passion with that great + good-natured colossus of mine, Mat Ruly, for, indeed, he is good-natured, + and that I can tell you makes me overlook many a thing in him that I would + not otherwise pass by. Ah, then, sir, did you observe,” he added, “how he + confessed to heaping the creel of turf for the Farrells, and crying with + poor Widow Magowran?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger could have told him that, if he had seen the comical wink + which the aforesaid Mat had given to one of the servant-maids, as he + reported his own sympathy and benevolence to his master, he might probably + have somewhat restricted his encomium upon him. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say, sir,” he replied, “that I paid particular attention to the + dialogue between you.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me,” exclaimed Father Peter, “what am I about? Walk into the + parlor, sir. Why should I have kept you standing here so long? Pray, take + a seat, sir. You must think me very rude and forgetful of the attention + due to a gentleman of your appearance.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, sir,” replied the other, seating himself—“I rather + think you were better engaged and in higher duties than any that are + likely to arise from my communication with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” replied the priest, smiling, “that you know is yet to be + determined on; but in the mane time I'll be happy to hear your business, + whatever it is; and, indeed, from your looks, although the Lord knows + they're often treacherous, I tell you that if I can stretch a point to + sarve you I will; provided always that I can do so with a good conscience, + and provided also that I find your character and conduct entitle you to + it. So, then, I say, let us have at the business you spake of, and to + follow up this proposition with suitable energy, what's your name and + occupation? for there's nothing like knowing the ground a man stands on. I + know you're a stranger in this neighborhood, for I assure you there is not + a face in the parish but I am as well acquainted with as my own, and + indeed a great deal betther, in regard that I never shave with a + looking-glass. I tried it once or twice and was near committing suicide in + the attempt.” + </p> + <p> + There was something so kind, frank, yet withal so eccentric, and, as it + would seem, so unconsciously humorous in the worthy father's manner, that + the stranger, whilst he felt embarrassed by the good-natured bluntness of + his interrogations, could not help experiencing a sensation that was + equally novel and delightful, arising as it did from the candor and + honesty of purpose that were so evident in all the worthy man did and + said. + </p> + <p> + “I should never have supposed, from the remarkable taste of your dress and + your general appearance,” he replied, “that you make your toilet without a + looking-glass.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a fact, though; neither I nor my worthy father before me ever + troubled one; we left them to the girshas and the women; habit is + everything, and for that reason I could shave as well at midnight as at + the hour of noon. However, let us pass that by, thank God I can go out + with as clane a face, and I trust with as clear a conscience, always + barring the passions that Mat Euly puts me into, as some of my neighbors; + yet, God forgive me, why should I boast? for I know and feel that I fall + far short of my duty in every sense, especially when I reflect how much of + poverty and destitution are scattered through this apparently wealthy + parish. God forgive me, then, for the boast I made, for it was both wrong + and sinful!” + </p> + <p> + A touch of feeling which it would be difficult to describe, but which + raised him still more highly in the estimation of the stranger, here + passed over his handsome and benevolent features, but after it had passed + away he returned at once to the object of the stranger's visit. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “to pass now from my omissions and deficiencies, let us + return to the point we were talking of; you haven't told me your name, or + occupation, or profession, or business of any kind—that is, if you + have any?” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, reverend sir,” replied the other, “that I am at the present + moment placed in such a position, that I fear it is out of my power to + satisfy you in any of these points. Whilst, at the same time, I confess + that, nameless and stranger as I am, I feel anxious to receive your advice + and assistance upon a matter of considerable—indeed of the deepest—importance + to an unfortunate and heart-broken lady, whose only son, when but six + years of age, and then heir to a large property, disappeared many years + ago in a manner so mysterious, that no trace, until very recently, has + ever been found of him. Nor, indeed, has she found any clew to him yet, + beyond a single intimation given to her by her house-steward—a man + named Corbet—who, on his death-bed, had merely breath to say that + 'your son lives, and that Sir Thomas—' These, sir, were the man's + last words; for, alas! unhappy for the peace of mind of this excellent + lady, he expired before he could complete the sentence, or give her the + information for which her heart yearned. Now, reverend sir,” he added, “I + told you that it is out of my power, for more than one reason, to disclose + my name; but, I assure you, that the fact of making this communication to + you, which you perceive I do frankly and without hesitation, is placing a + confidence in you, though a personal stranger to me, which I am certain + you will respect.” + </p> + <p> + “Me a stranger!” exclaimed the priest, “in my own parish where I have + lived curate and parish priest for close upon forty years; hut hut! this + is a good joke. Why, I tell you, sir, that there is not a dog in the + parish but knows me, with the exception of a vile cur belonging to Jemmy + M'Gurth, that I have striven to coax and conciliate a hundred ways, and + yet I never pass but he's out at me. Indeed, he's an ungrateful creature, + and a mane sconce besides; for I tell you, that when leaving home, I have + often put bread in my pocket, and on going past his owner's house, I would + throw it to him—now not a lie in this—and what do you think + the nasty vermin would do? He'd ait the bread, and after he had made short + work of it—for he's aquil to Mat Kuly in appetite—he'd attack + me as fresh, and indeed a great dale fresher in regard of what he had got; + ay, and with more bitterness, if possible, than ever. Now, sir, I remember + that greedy and ungrateful scrub of an animal about three years ago; for + indeed the ill feeling is going on between us for nearly seven—I say + I remember him in the dear year, when he wasn't able to bark at me until + he staggered over and put himself against the ditch on the roadside, and + then, heaven knows, worse execution of the kind was never heard. However, + there's little else than ingratitude in this world, and eaten bread, like + hunger, is soon forgotten, though far seldomer by dogs, I am sorry to say, + than by man—a circumstance which makes the case I am repeating to + you of this cur still worse. But, indeed, he served me right; for bribery, + even to a dog, does not deserve to prosper. But I beg your pardon, sir, + for obtruding my own little grievances upon a stranger. What is it you + expect me to do for you in this business? You allude, I think, to Lady + Gourlay; and, in truth, if it was in my power to restore her son to her, + that good and charitable lady would not be long without him.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” replied the other—“She is under a strong impression, in + consequence of the dying man's allusion to the boy's uncle, Sir Thomas, + 'who,' he said, 'knows,' that he is cognizant of the position—whatever + it may be—in which her unfortunate son is placed.” + </p> + <p> + “Not unlikely, but still what can I do in this?” + </p> + <p> + “I am scarcely aware of that myself,” replied the other; “but I may say + that it was Mr. Birney, who, under the circumstances of peculiar + difficulty in which I am placed, suggested to me to see you, and who + justified me besides in reposing this important confidence in you.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank Mr. Birney,” said Father Peter, “and you may rest assured, that + your confidence will not be abused, and that upon a higher principle, I + trust, than my friendship for that worthy and estimable gentleman. I wish + all in his dirty roguish profession were like him. By the way,” he added, + as if struck by a sudden thought, “perhaps you are the worthy gentleman + who kicked the Black Baronet downstairs in the Mitre inn?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied; “some warm words we had, which indeed for one reason I + regret; but that was all. Sir Thomas, sir, I believe, is not popular in + the neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + “I make it a point, my friend,” replied the priest, “never to spake ill of + the absent; but perhaps you are aware that his only son disappeared as + mysteriously as the other, and that he charges his sister-in-law as the + cause of it; so that, in point of fact, their suspicions are mutual.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so,” said the other; “but I wish to direct your attention to + another fact, or, rather, to another individual, who seems to me to be + involved in considerable mystery.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, who is that.” replied the priest—“Not yourself, I hope; + for in truth, by all accounts, you're as mysterious as e'er a one of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “My mystery will soon disappear, I trust,” said the stranger, smiling—“The + young man's name to whom I allude is Fenton; but I appeal to yourself, + reverend sir, whether, if Sir Thomas Gourlay were to become aware of the + dying man's words, with which I have just made you acquainted, he might + not be apt, if it be a fact that he has in safe and secret durance his + brother's son, and the heir to the property which he himself now enjoys, + whether, I say, he might not take such steps as Would probably render + fruitless every search that could be made for him?” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't fear me, sir,” replied his reverence; “if you can keep your + own secret as well as I will, it won't travel far, I can tell you. But + what about this unfortunate young man, Fenton? I think I certainly heard + the people say from time to time that nobody knows anything about him, + either as to where he came from or who he is. How is he involved in this + affair, though?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot speak with any certainty,” replied the other; “but, to tell you + the truth, I often feel myself impressed with strong suspicions, that he + is the very individual we are seeking.” + </p> + <p> + “But upon what reasons do you ground those suspicions.” asked his + reverence. + </p> + <p> + The stranger then related to him the circumstances in connection with + Fenton's mysterious terror of Sir Thomas Gourlay, precisely as the reader + is already acquainted with them. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the priest, “can you believe now, if Sir Thomas was the + kidnapper in this instance, that he would allow unfortunate Fenton, + supposing he is his brother's heir, and who, they say, is often <i>non + compos</i>, to remain twenty-four hours at large?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably not; but you know he may be unaware of his residence so near + him. Sir Thomas, like too many of his countrymen, has been an absentee for + years, and is only a short time in this country, and still a shorter at + Red Hall. The young man probably is at large, because he may have escaped. + There is evidently some mysterious relation between Fenton and the + baronet, but what it is or can be I am utterly unable to trace. Fenton, + with all his wild eccentricity or insanity, is cautious, and on his guard + against me; and I find it impossible to get anything out of him.” + </p> + <p> + The worthy priest fell into a mood of apparently deep but agreeable + reflection, and the stranger felt a hope that he had fallen upon some + plan, or, at all events, that he had thought of or recalled to memory some + old recollection that might probably be of service to him. + </p> + <p> + “The poor fellow, sir,” said he, addressing the other with singular + benignity, “is an orphan; his mother is dead more than twelve years, and + his father, the idle and unfortunate man, never has been of the slightest + use to him, poor creature.” + </p> + <p> + “What,” exclaimed the stranger, with animation, “you, then, know his + father!” + </p> + <p> + “Know him! to be sure I do. He is, or rather he was, a horse-jockey, and I + took the poor neglected young lad in because he had no one to look after + him. But wasn't it kind-hearted of the creature to heap the creel of turf + though, and shed tears for poor Widow Magowran? In truth, I won't forget + either of these two acts to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak, sir, of your servant, I believe.” observed the other, with + something like chagrin. + </p> + <p> + “In truth, there's not a kind-hearted young giant alive this day. Many a + little bounty that I, through the piety and liberality of the charitable, + am enabled to distribute among my poor, and often send to them with Mat; + and I believe there's scarcely an instance of the kind in which he is the + bearer of it, that he doesn't shed tears just as he did with Widow + Magowran. Sure I have it from his own lips.” + </p> + <p> + “I have little doubt of it,” replied the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “And one day,” proceeded the credulous, easy man, “that I was going along + the Race-road, I overtook him with a creel of turf, the same way, on his + back, and when I looked down from my horse into the creel, I saw with + astonishment that it wasn't more than half full. 'Mat,' said I, 'what's + the raison of this? Didn't I desire you to fill the creel to the top, and + above it?' + </p> + <p> + “'Troth,' said poor Mat, 'I never carried such a creelful in my life as it + was when I left home.' + </p> + <p> + “'But what has become of the turf, then?' I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He gave me a look and almost began to cry—'Arra now, your + reverence,' he replied, 'how could you expict me to have the heart to + refuse a few sods to the great number of poor creatures that axed me for + them, to boil their pratees, as I came along? I hope, your reverence, I am + not so hard-hearted as all that comes to.'” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” proceeded the priest, “that it was wrong not to bring the turf + to its destination; but, you see, sir, it was only an error of judgment—although + the head was wrong, the heart was right—and that's a great point.” + </p> + <p> + It was not in human nature, however, to feel annoyed at this + characteristic ebullition. The stranger's chagrin at once disappeared, and + as he was in no particular hurry, and wished to see as much of the priest + as possible, he resolved to give him his own way. + </p> + <p> + He had not long to wait, however. After about a minute's deep thought, he + expressed himself as follows—and it may be observed here, once for + all, that on appropriate occasions his conversation could rise and adapt + itself to the dignity of the subject, with a great deal of easy power, if + not of eloquence—“Now, sir,” said he, “you will plaise to pay + attention to what I am about to say: Beware of Sir Thomas Gourlay—as + a Christian man, it is my duty to put you on your guard; but consider that + you ask me to involve myself in a matter of deep family interest and + importance, and yet, as I said, you keep yourself wrapped, up in a veil of + impenetrable mystery. Pray, allow me to ask, is Mr. Birney acquainted with + your name and secret?” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” replied the other, “with both” + </p> + <p> + “Then, in that case,” said the worthy priest, with very commendable + prudence, “I will walk over with you to his house, and if he assures me + personally that you are a gentleman in whose objects I may and ought to + feel an interest, I then say, that I shall do what I can for you, although + that may not be much. Perhaps I may put you in a proper train to succeed. + I will, with these conditions, give you a letter to an old man in Dublin, + who may give you, on this very subject, more information than any other + person I know, with one exception.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” replied the stranger, getting on his legs—“I am quite + satisfied with that proposal, and I feel that it is very kind of you to + make it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you won't go,” said the priest, “till you take some refreshment. + It's now past two o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged to you,” replied the other, “but I never lunch.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a foot you'll stir then till you take something—I don't want + you to lunch—a bit and a sup just—come, don't refuse now, for + I say you must.” + </p> + <p> + The other smiled, and replied—“But, I assure you, my dear sir, I + couldn't—I breakfasted late.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a matter for that, you must have something, I say—a drop of + dram then—pure poteen—or maybe you'd prefer a glass of wine? + say which; for you must taste either the one or the other”—and as he + spoke, with a good-humored laugh, he deliberately locked the door, and put + the key in his pocket—“It's an old proverb,” he added, “that those + who won't take are never ready to give, and I'll think you after all but a + poor-hearted creature if you refuse it. At any rate, consider yourself a + prisoner until you comply.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied our strange friend, still smiling, “since your + hospitality will force me, at the expense of my liberty, I think I must—a + glass of sherry then, since you are so kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” replied his reverence, “I see you don't know what's good—that's + the stuff,” he added, pointing to the poteen, “that would send the radical + heat to the very ends of your nails—I never take more than a single + tumbler after my dinner, but that's my choice.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger then joined him in a glass of sherry, and they proceeded to + Mr. Birney's. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. Crackenfudge Outwitted by Fenton + </h2> + <h3> + —The Baronet, Enraged at His Daughter's Firmness, strikes Her. + </h3> + <p> + Crackenfudge, who was completely on the alert to ascertain if possible the + name of the stranger, and the nature of his business in Ballytrain, + learned that Fenton and he had had three or four private interviews, and + he considered it very likely that if he could throw himself in that wild + young fellow's way, without any appearance of design, he might be able to + extract something concerning the other out of him. In the course, then, of + three or four days after that detailed in our last chapter, and we mention + this particularly, because Father M'Mahon was obliged to write to Dublin, + in order to make inquiries touching the old man's residence to whom he had + undertaken to give the stranger a letter—in the course, we say, of + three or four days after that on which the worthy priest appears in our + pages, it occurred that Crackenfudge met the redoubtable Fenton in his + usual maudlin state, that is to say, one in which he could be termed + neither drunk nor sober. We have said that Fenton's mind was changeful and + unstable; sometimes evincing extraordinary quietness and civility, and + sometimes full of rant and swagger, to which we may add, a good deal of + adroitness and tact. In his most degraded state he was always known to + claim a certain amount of respect, and would scarcely hold conversation + with any one who would not call him Mr. Fenton. + </p> + <p> + On meeting Fenton, the worthy candidate for the magistracy, observing the + condition he was in, which indeed was his usual one, took it for granted + that his chance was good. He accordingly addressed him as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Fenton,” said he, “what's the news in town?” + </p> + <p> + “To whom do you speak, sirra?” replied Fenton, indignantly. “Take off your + hat, sir, whenever you address a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Every one knows you're a gentleman, Mr. Fenton,” replied Crackenfudge; + “and as for me, a'd be sorry to address you as anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry I can't return the compliment, then,” said Fenton; “everyone + knows you're anything but a gentleman, and that's the difference between + us. What piece of knavery have you on the anvil now, my worthy embryo + magistrate?” + </p> + <p> + “You're severe this morning, Mr. Fenton; a' don't think a' ever deserved + that at your hands. But come, Mr. Fenton, let us be on good terms. A' + acknowledge you are a gentleman, Mr. Fenton.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care,” replied Fenton, “and don't overdo the thing neither. Whether + is it the knave or fool predominates in you to-day, Mr. Crackenfudge?” + </p> + <p> + “A' hope a'm neither the one nor the other,” replied the embryo + magistrate. “A' hope a'm not, Mr. Fenton.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe, however, you happen to be both,” said Fenton; “that's a fact + as well known, my good fellow, as the public stocks there below; and if + Madam Fame reports aright, it's a pity you should be long out of them. + Avaunt, you upstart! Before the close of your life, you will die with as + many aliases as e'er a thief that ever swung from a gallows, and will + deserve the swing, too, better than the thief.” + </p> + <p> + “A' had a right to change my name,” replied the other, “when a' got into + property. A' was ashamed of my friends, because there's a great many of + them poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Invert the tables, you misbegotten son of an elve,” replied Fenton; “'tis + they that are ashamed of you; there is not one among the humblest of them + but would blush to name you. So you did not uncover, as I desired you; but + be it so. You wish to let me, sir, who am a gentleman, know, and to force + me to say, that there is a knave under your hat. But come, Mr. + Crackenfudge,” he continued, at once, and by some unaccountable impulse, + changing his manner, “come, my friend Crackenfudge, you must overlook my + satire. Thersites' mood has past, and now for benevolence and friendship. + Give us your honest hand, and bear not malice against your friend and + neighbor.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have your own way, Mr. Fenton,” said Crackenfudge, smiling, or + assuming a smile, and still steady as a sleuthhound to his purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Where now are you bound for, oh, benevolent and humane Crackenfudge?” + </p> + <p> + “A' was jist thinking of asking this strange fellow—” + </p> + <p> + “Right, O Crackenfudgius! that impostor is a fellow; or if you prefer the + reverse of the proposition, that fellow is an impostor. I have found him + out.” + </p> + <p> + “A' hard,” replied Crackenfudge, “that he and you were on rather intimate + terms, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And so as being my companion, you considered him a fellow! Proceed, + Crackenfudgius.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not at all; a' was thinkin' of makin' his acquaintance, and paying + some attention to him; that is, if a' could know who and what he is.” + </p> + <p> + “And thou shalt know, my worthy mock magistrate. I am in a communicative + humor to-day, and know thou shalt.” + </p> + <p> + “And what may his name be, pray, Mr. Fenton?” with a peculiar emphasis on + the Mr. + </p> + <p> + “Caution,” said Fenton; “don't overdo the thing, I say, otherwise I am + silent as the grave. Heigh-ho! what put that in my head? Well, sir, you + shall know all you wish to know. In the first place, as to his name—it + is Harry Hedles. He was clerk to a toothbrush-maker in London, but it + seems he made a little too free with a portion of the brush money: he + accordingly brushed off to our celebrated Irish metropolis, ycleped + Dublin, where, owing to a tolerably good manner, a smooth English accent, + and a tremendous stock of assurance, he insinuated himself into several + respectable families as a man of some importance. Among others, it is said + that he has engaged the affections of a beautiful creature, daughter and + heiress to an Irish baronet, and that they are betrothed to each other. + But as to the name or residence of the baronet, O Crackenfudgius, I am not + in a condition to inform you—for this good reason, that I don't know + either myself.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it a fair question, Mr. Fenton, to ask how you became acquainted + with all this?” + </p> + <p> + “How?” exclaimed Fenton, with a doughty but confident swagger; + “incredulous varlet, do you doubt the authenticity of my information? He + disclosed to me every word of it himself, and sought me out here for the + purpose of getting me to influence my friends, who, you distrustful + caitiff, are persons of rank and consequence, for the purpose of bringing + about a reconciliation between him and old Grinwell, the toothbrush man, + and having the prosecution stopped. Avaunt! now, begone! This is all the + information I can afford upon the subject of that stout but gentlemanly + impostor.” + </p> + <p> + Crackenfudge, we should have said, was on horseback during the previous + dialogue, and no sooner had Fenton passed on, with a look of the most + dignified self-consequence on his thin and wasted, though rather handsome + features, than the candidate magistrate set spurs to his horse, and with a + singularly awkward wabbling motion of his feet and legs about the animal's + sides, his right hand flourishing his whip at the same time into circles + in the air, he approached Red Hall, as if he brought tidings of some great + national victory. + </p> + <p> + He found the baronet perusing a letter, who, after having given him a nod, + and pointing to a chair, without speaking, read on, with an expression of + countenance which almost alarmed poor Crackenfudge. Whatever intelligence + the letter may have contained, one thing seemed obvious—that it was + gall and wormwood to his heart. His countenance, naturally more than + ordinarily dark, literally blackened with rage and mortification, or + perhaps with both; his eyes flashed fire, and seemed as about to project + themselves out of his head, and poor Crackenfudge could hear most + distinctly the grinding of his teeth. At length he rose up, and strode, as + was his custom, through the room, moved by such a state of feeling as it + was awful to look upon. During all this time he never seemed to notice + Crackenfudge, whose face, on the other hand, formed a very ludicrous + contrast with that of the baronet. There was at any time very little + meaning, to an ordinary observer, in the countenance of this anxious + candidate for the magisterial bench, but it was not without cunning; just + as in the case of a certain class of fools, any one may recollect that + anomalous combination of the latter with features whose blankness betokens + the natural idiot at a first glance. Crackenfudge, who, on this occasion, + felt conscious of the valuable intelligence he was about to communicate, + sat with a face in which might be read, as far at least as anything could, + a full sense of the vast importance with which he was charged, and the + agreeable surprise which he must necessarily give the raging baronet. Not + that the expression, after all, could reach anything higher than that + union of stupidity and assurance which may so frequently be read in the + same countenance. + </p> + <p> + “A' see, Sir Thomas,” he at length said, “that something has vexed you, + and a'm sorry to see it.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet gave him a look of such fury, as in a moment banished not only + the full-blown consciousness of the important intelligence he was about to + communicate, but its very expression from his face, which waxed + meaningless and cowardly-looking as ever. + </p> + <p> + “A' hope,” he added, in an apologetical tone, “that a' didn't offend you + by my observation; at least, a' didn't intend it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the baronet, “your apology is as unseasonable as the + offence for which you make it. You see in what a state of agitation I am, + and yet, seeing this, you have the presumption to annoy me by your + impertinence. I have already told you, that I would help you to this d——d + magistracy: although it is a shame, before God and man to put such a + creature as you are upon the bench. Don't you see, sir, that I am not in a + mood to be spoken to?” + </p> + <p> + Poor Crackenfudge was silent; and, upon remembering his previous dialogue + with Fenton, he could not avoid thinking that he was treated rather + roughly between them, The baronet, however, still moved backward and + forward, like an enraged tiger in his cage, without any further notice of + Crackenfudge; who, on his part, felt likely to explode, unless he should + soon disburden himself of his intelligence. Indeed, so confident did he + feel of the sedative effect it would and must have upon the disturbed + spirit of this dark and terrible man, that he resolved to risk an + experiment, at all hazards, after his own way. He accordingly puckered his + face into a grin that was rendered melancholy by the terror which was + still at his heart, and, in a voice that had one of the most comical + quavers imaginable, he said: “Good news, Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Good devil, sir! what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “A' mean good news, Sir Thomas. The fellow in the inn—a' know + everything about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! what is that? I beg your pardon, Crackenfudge; I have treated you + discourteously and badly—but you will excuse me. I have had such + cause for excitement as is sufficient to drive me almost mad. What is the + good news you speak of, Crackenfudge?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who the fellow in the inn is, Sir Thomas?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I; but I wish I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, a' can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas turned abruptly about, and, fastening his dark gleaming eyes + upon him, surveyed him with an expression of which no language could give + an adequate description. + </p> + <p> + “Crackenfudge,” said he, in a voice condensed into tremendous power and + interest, “keep me not a moment in suspense—don't tamper with me, + sir—don't attempt to play upon me—don't sell your + intelligence, nor make a bargain for it. Curse your magistracy—have + I not already told you that I will help you to it? What is the + intelligence—the good news you speak of?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, simply this, Sir Thomas,” replied the other,—“that a' know who + and what the fellow in the inn is; but, for God's sake, Sir Thomas, keep + your temper within bounds, or if you don't, a' must only go home again, + and keep my secret to myself. You have treated me very badly, Sir Thomas; + you have insulted me, Sir Thomas; you have grossly offended me, Sir + Thomas, in your own house, too, and without the slightest provocation. A' + have told you that a' know everything about the fellow in the inn; and + now, sir, you may thank the treatment a' received that a' simply tell you + that, and have the honor of bidding you good day.” + </p> + <p> + “Crackenfudge,” replied. Sir Thomas, who in an instant saw his error, and + felt in all its importance the value of the intelligence with which the + other was charged, “I beg your pardon; but you may easily see that I was + not—that I am not myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You pledge your honor, Sir Thomas, that you will get me the magistracy? + A' know you can if you set about it. A' declare to God, Sir Thomas, a' + will never have a happy day unless I'm able to write J. P. after my name. + A' can think of nothing else. And, Sir Thomas, listen to me; my friends—a' + mean my relations—poor, honest, contemptible creatures, are all + angry with me, because a' changed my name to Crackenfudge.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has this to do with the history of the fellow in the inn?” + replied Sir Thomas. “With respect to the change of your name, I have been + given to understand that your relations have been considerably relieved by + it.” + </p> + <p> + “How, Sir Thomas?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they say that they escape the disgrace of the connection; but, as + for myself,” added the baronet, with a peculiar sneer, “I don't pretend to + know anything about the matter—one way or other. But let it pass, + however; and now for your intelligence.” + </p> + <p> + “But you didn't pledge your honor that you would get me the magistracy.” + </p> + <p> + “If,” said. Sir Thomas, “the information you have to communicate be of the + importance I expect, I pledge my honor, that whatever man can do to serve + you in that matter, I will. You know I cannot make magistrates at my will—I + am not the lord chancellor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Sir Thomas, to make short work of it, the fellow's name is + Harry Hedles. He was clerk to the firm of Grinwell and Co., the great + tooth-brush manufacturers—absconded with some of their cash, came + over here, and smuggled himself, in the shape of a gentleman, into + respectable families; and a'm positively informed, that he has succeeded + in seducing the affections, and becoming engaged to the daughter and + heiress of a wealthy baronet.” + </p> + <p> + The look which Sir Thomas turned upon Crackenfudge made the cowardly + caitiff tremble. + </p> + <p> + “Harkee, Mr. Crackenfudge,” said he; “did you hear the name of the + baronet, or of his daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “A' did not, Sir Thomas; the person that told me was ignorant of this + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask who your informant was, Mr. Crackenfudge?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Sir Thomas, a half mad fellow, named Fenton, who said that he saw + this vagabond at an establishment in England conducted by a brother of + this Grinwell's.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet paused for a moment, but the expression which took possession + of his features was one of the most intense interest that could be + depicted on the human countenance; he fastened his eyes upon Crackenfudge, + as if he would have read the very soul within him, and by an effort + restrained himself so far as to say, with forced composure, “Pray, Mr. + Crackenfudge, what kind of a person is this Fenton, whom you call + half-mad, and from whom you had this information?” + </p> + <p> + Crackenfudge described Fenton, and informed Sir Thomas that in the opinion + of the people he was descended of a good family, though neglected and + unfortunate. “But,” he added, “as to who he really is, or of what family, + no one can get out of him. He's close and cunning.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he occasionally unsettled in his reason?” asked the baronet, with + assumed indifference. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of it, Sir Thomas; he'll sometimes pass a whole week or + fortnight and never open his lips.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet appeared to be divided between two states of feeling so + equally balanced as to leave him almost without the power of utterance. He + walked, he paused, he looked at Crackenfudge as if he would speak, then + resumed his step with a hasty and rapid stride that betokened the depth of + what he felt. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Crackenfudge,” he said, “your intelligence, after all, is but mere + smoke. I thought the fellow in the inn was something beyond the rank of + clerk to a tooth-brush maker; he is not worth our talk, neither is that + madman Fenton. In the mean time, I am much obliged to you, and you may + calculate upon my services wherever they can be made available to your + interests. I would not now hurry you away nor request you to curtail your + visit, were it not that I expect Lord Cullamore here in about half an + hour, or perhaps less, and I wish to see Miss Gourlay previous to his + arrival.” + </p> + <p> + “But you won't forget the magistracy, Sir Thomas? A'm dreaming of it every + night. A' think that a'm seated upon a bench with five or six other + magistrates along with me, and you can't imagine the satisfaction I feel + in sending those poor vermin that are going about in a state of disloyalty + and starvation to the stocks or the jail. Oh, authority is a delightful + thing, Sir Thomas, especially when a man can exercise it upon the vile + rubbish that constitutes the pauper population of the country. You know, + if a' were a magistrate, Sir Thomas, a' would fine every one—as well + as my own tenants, whom I do fine—that did not take off their hat or + make me a courtesy.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you were to do so, Crackenfudge,” replied the baronet, with a + grim, sardonic smile, or rather a sneer, “I assure you, that such a + measure would become a very general and heavy impost upon the country. But + goodby, now; I shall remember your wishes as touching the magistracy. You + shall have J. P. after your name, and be at liberty to fine, flog, put in + the stocks, and send to prison as many of the rubbish you speak of as you + wish.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be delightful, Sir Thomas. A'll then make many a vagabond that + despises and laughs at me suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, the country at large will suffer heavily; for to tell you + the truth, Crackenfudge, you are anything but a favorite. Goodby, now, I + must see my daughter.” And so he nodded the embryo magistrate out. + </p> + <p> + After the latter had taken his departure, Sir Thomas rubbed his hands, + with a strong turbid gleam of ferocious satisfaction, that evidently + resulted from the communication that Crackenfudge had made to him. + </p> + <p> + “It can be no other,” thought he; “his allusion to the establishment of + Grinwell is a strong presumptive proof that it is; but he must be secured + forthwith, and that with all secrecy and dispatch, taking it always for + granted that he is the fugitive for whom we have been seeking so long. One + point, however, in our favor is, that as he knows neither his real name + nor origin, nor even the hand which guided his destiny, he can make no + discovery of which I may feel apprehensive. Still it is dangerous that he + should be at large, for it is impossible to say what contingency might + happen—what chance would, or perhaps early recollection might, like + a spark of light to a train, blow up in a moment the precaution of years. + As to the fellow in the inn, the account of him may be true enough, for + unquestionably Grinwell, who kept the asylum, had a brother in the + tooth-brush business, and this fact gives the story something like + probability, as does the mystery with which this man wraps himself so + closely. In the meantime, if he be a clerk, he is certainly an impostor of + the most consummate art, for assuredly so gentlemanly a scoundrel I have + never yet come in contact with. But, good heavens! if such a report should + have gone abroad concerning that stiff-necked and obstinate girl, her + reputation and prospects in life are ruined forever. What would Dunroe say + if he heard it? as it is certain he will. Then, again, here is the visit + from this conscientious old blockhead, Lord Cullamore, who won't allow me + to manage my daughter after my own manner. He must hear from her own lips, + forsooth, how she relishes this union. He must see her, he says; but, if + she betrays me now and continues restive, I shall make her feel what it is + to provoke me. This interview will ruin me with old Cullamore; but in the + meantime I must see the girl, and let her know what the consequences will + be if she peaches against me.” + </p> + <p> + All this, of course, passed through his mind briefly, as he walked to and + fro, according to his usual habit. After a few minutes he rang, and with a + lowering brow, and in a stern voice, ordered Miss Gourlay to be conducted + to him. This was accordingly done, her maid having escorted her to the + library door, for it is necessary to say here, that she had been under + confinement since the day of her father's visit to Lord Cullamore. + </p> + <p> + She appeared pale and dejected, but at the same time evidently sustained + by serious composure and firmness. On entering the room, her father gazed + at her with a long, searching look, that seemed as if he wished to + ascertain, from her manner, whether imprisonment had in any degree tamed + her down to his purposes. He saw, indeed, that she was somewhat paler than + usual, but he perceived at once that not one jot of her resolution had + abated. After an effort, he endeavored to imitate her composure, and in + some remote degree the calm and serene dignity of her manner. Lucy, who + considered herself a prisoner, stood after having entered the room, as if + in obedience to her father's wishes. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy, be seated,” said he; and whilst speaking, he placed himself in an + arm-chair, near the fire, but turned toward her, and kept his eyes + steadily fixed upon her countenance. “Lucy,” he proceeded, “you are to + receive a visit from Lord Cullamore, by and by, and it rests with you this + day whether I shall stand in his estimation a dishonored man or not.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “You soon shall. I paid him a visit, as you are aware, at his own request, + a few days ago. The object of that visit was to discuss the approaching + union between you and his son. He said he would not have you pressed + against your inclinations, and expressed an apprehension that the match + was not exactly in accordance with your wishes. Now, mark me, Lucy, I + undertook, upon my own responsibility, as well as upon yours, to assure + him that it had your fullest concurrence, and I expect that you shall bear + me out and sustain me in this assertion.” + </p> + <p> + “I who am engaged to another?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but clandestinely, without your father's knowledge or approbation.” + </p> + <p> + “I admit my error, papa; I fully and freely acknowledge it, and the only + atonement I can make to you for it is, to assure you that although I am + not likely ever to marry according to your wishes, yet I shall never marry + against them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” thought the baronet, “I have brought her down a step already.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Lucy,” said he, “it is time that this undutiful obstinacy on your + part should cease. It is time you should look to and respect—yes, + and obey your father's wishes. I have already told you that I have + impressed Lord Cullamore with a belief that you are a free and consenting + party to this marriage, and I trust you have too much delicacy and + self-respect to make your father a liar, for that is the word. I admit I + told him a falsehood, but I did so for the honor and exaltation of my + child. You will not betray me, Lucy?” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, “I regret that you make these torturing communications + to me. God knows I wish to love and respect you, but when, under solemn + circumstances, you utter, by your own admission, a deliberate falsehood to + a man of the purest truth and honor; when you knowingly and wilfully + mislead him for selfish and ambitious purposes;—nay, I will retract + these words, and suppose it is from an anxiety to secure me rank and + happiness,—I say, father, when you thus forget all that constitutes + the integrity and dignity of man, and stoop to the discreditable meanness + of falsehood, I ask you, is it manly, or honorable, or affectionate, to + involve me in proceedings so utterly shameful, and to ask me to abet you + in such a wanton perversion of truth? Sir, there are fathers—indeed, + I believe, most fathers living—who would rather see any child of + theirs stretched and shrouded up in the grave than know them to be guilty + of such a base and deliberate violation of all the sacred principles of + truth as this.” + </p> + <p> + “You will expose me then, and disgrace me forever with this cursed + conscientious old blockhead? I tell you that he doubts my assertion as + touching your consent, and is coming to hear the truth from your own lips. + But hearken, girl, betray me to him, and by heavens you know not the + extent to which my vengeance will carry me.” + </p> + <p> + He rose up, and glared at her in a manner that made her apprehensive for + her personal safety. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, growing pale, for the dialogue, brief as it was, had + brought the color into her cheeks, “will you permit me to withdraw? I am + quite unequal to these contests of temper and opinion; permit me, sir, to + withdraw. I have already told you, that provided you do not attempt to + force me into a marriage contrary to my wishes I shall never marry + contrary to yours.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet swore a deep and blasphemous oath that he would enter into no + such stipulation. The thing, he said, was an evasion, an act of moral + fraud and deceit upon her part, and she should not escape from him. + </p> + <p> + “You wish to gain time, madam, to work out your own treacherous purposes, + and to defeat my intentions with respect to you; but it shall not be. You + must see Lord Cullamore; you must corroborate my assertions to him; you + must save me from shame and dishonor or dread the consequences. A paltry + sacrifice, indeed, to tell a fib to a doting old peer, who thinks no one + in the world honest or honorable but himself!” + </p> + <p> + “Think of the danger of what you ask,” she replied; “think of the deep + iniquity—the horrible guilt, and the infamy of the crime into which + you wish to plunge me. Reflect that you are breaking down the restraints + of honor and conscience in iny heart; that you are defiling my soul with + falsehood; and that if I yield to you in this, every subsequent temptation + will beset me with more success, until my faith, truth, honor, integrity, + are gone forever—until I shall be lost. Is there no sense of + religion, father? Is there no future life? Is there no God—no + judgment? Father, in asking me to abet your falsehood, and sustain you in + your deceit, you transgress the limits of parental authority, and the + first principles of natural affection. You pervert them, you abuse them; + and, I must say, once and for all, that be the weight of your vengeance + what it may, I prefer bearing it to enduring the weight of a guilty + conscience.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet rose, and rushing at her, raised his open hand and struck her + rather severely on the side of the head. She felt, as it were, stunned for + a little, but at length she rose up, and said: “Father, this is the + insanity of a bad ambition, or perhaps of affection, and you know not what + you have done.” She then approached him, and throwing her arms about his + neck, exclaimed: “Papa, kiss me; and I shall never think of it, nor allude + to it;” as she spoke the tears fell in showers from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No, madam,” he replied, “I repulse you; I throw you off from me now and + forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Be calm, papa; compose yourself, my dear papa. I shall not see Lord + Cullamore; it would be now impossible; I could not sustain an interview + with him. You, consequently, can have nothing to fear; you can say I am + ill, and that will be truth indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never relax one moment,” he replied, “until I either subdue you, + or break your obstinate heart. Come, madam,” said he, “I will conduct you + to your apartment.” + </p> + <p> + She submissively preceded him, until he committed her once more to the + surveillance of the maid whom he had engaged and bribed to be her + sentinel. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to say that the visit of the honorable old nobleman + ended in nothing. Lucy was not in a condition to see him; and as her + father at all risks reiterated his assertions as to her free and hearty + consent to the match, Lord Cullamore went away, now perfectly satisfied + that if his son had any chance of being reclaimed by the influence of a + virtuous wife, it must be by his union with Lucy. The noble qualities and + amiable disposition of this excellent young lady were so well known that + only one opinion prevailed with respect to her. + </p> + <p> + Some wondered, indeed, how such a man could be father to such a daughter; + but, on the other hand, the virtues of the mother were remembered, and the + wonder was one no longer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. The Stranger's Second Visit to Father M'Mahon + </h2> + <h3> + —Something like an Elopement. + </h3> + <p> + On the evening of the same day the stranger desired Paudeen Gair to take a + place for him in the “Fly,” which was to return to Dublin on that night. + He had been furnished with a letter from Father M'Mahon, to whom he had, + in Mr. Birney's, fully disclosed his name and objects. He felt anxious, + however, to engage some trustworthy servant or attendant, on whose + integrity he could fully rely, knowing, or at least apprehending, that he + might be placed in circumstances where he could not himself act openly and + freely without incurring suspicion or observation. Paudeen, however, or, + as we shall call him in future, Pat Sharpe, had promised to procure a + person of the strictest honesty, in whom every confidence could be placed. + This man's name, or rather his nickname, was Dandy Dulcimer, an epithet + bestowed upon him in consequence of the easy and strolling life he led, + supporting himself, as he passed from place to place, by his performances + upon that simple but pleasing instrument. + </p> + <p> + “Pat,” said the stranger in the course of the evening, “have you succeeded + in procuring me this cousin of yours?” for in that relation he stood to + Pat. + </p> + <p> + “I expect him here every minute, sir,” replied Pat; “and there's one thing + I'll lay down my life on—you may trust him as you would any one of + the twelve apostles—barring that blackguard Judas. Take St. Pettier, + or St. Paul, or any of the dacent apostles, and the divil a one of them + honester than Dandy. Not that he's a saint like them either, or much + overburdened with religion, poor fellow; as for honesty and truth—divil + a greater liar ever walked in the mane time; but, by truth, I mane truth + to you, and to any one that employs him—augh, by my soul, he's the + flower of a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “He won't bring his dulcimer with him, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't he, indeed? Be me sowl, sir, you might as well separate sowl and + body, as take Dandy from his dulcimer. Like the two sides of a scissors, + the one's of no use widout the other. They must go together, or Dandy + could never cut his way through the world by any chance. Hello! here he + is. I hear his voice in the hall below.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring him up, Pat,” said the stranger; “I must see and speak to him; + because if I feel that he won't suit me, I will have nothing to do with + him.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy immediately entered, with his dulcimer slung like a peddler's bos at + his side, and with a comic movement of respect, which no presence or + position could check, he made a bow to the stranger, that forced him to + smile in spite of himself. + </p> + <p> + “You seem a droll fellow,” said the stranger. “Are you fond of truth?” + </p> + <p> + “Hem! Why, yes, sir. I spare it as much as I can. I don't treat it as an + everyday concern. We had a neighbor once, a widow M'Cormick, who was + rather penurious, and whenever she saw her servants buttering their bread + too thickly, she used to whisper to them in a confidential way, 'Ahagur, + the thinner you spread it the further it will go.' Hem! However, I must + confess that once or twice a year I draw on it by way of novelty, that is, + on set days or bonfire nights; and I hope, sir, you'll admit that that's + treating it with respect.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you happen to turn musician?” asked the other. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, I was always fond of a jingle; but, to tell you the truth, I + would rather have the same jingle in my purse than in my instrument. Divil + such an unmusical purse ever a man was cursed with than I have been doomed + to carry during my whole life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it was a natural love of music that sent you abroad as a performer?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly only, sir; for there were three causes went to it. There is a + certain man named Dandy Dulcimer, that I had a very loving regard for, and + I thought it against his aise and comfort to ask him to strain his poor + bones by hard work. I accordingly substituted pure idleness for it, which + is a delightful thing in its way. There, sir, is two of the causes—love + of melody and a strong but virtuous disinclination to work. The third—” + but here he paused and his face darkened. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” inquired the stranger, “the third? What about the third?” + </p> + <p> + Dandy significantly pointed back with his thumb over his shoulder, in the + direction of Red Hall. “It was him,” he said; “the Black Baronet—or + rather the incarnate divil.” + </p> + <p> + “That's truth, at all events,” observed Pat corroborating the incomplete + assertion. + </p> + <p> + “It was he, sir,” continued Dandy, “that thrust us out of our comfortable + farm—he best knows why and wherefore—and like a true friend of + liberty, he set us at large from our comfortable place, to enjoy it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the stranger, “if that be true it was hard; but you know + every story has two sides; or, as the proverb goes, one story is well + until the other is told. Let us dismiss this. If I engage you to attend + me, can you be faithful, honest, and cautious?” + </p> + <p> + “To an honest man, sir, I can; but to no other. I grant I have acted the + knave very often, but it was always in self-defence, and toward far + greater knaves than myself. An honest man did once ax me to serve him in + an honest way; but as I was then in a roguish state of mind I tould him I + couldn't conscientiously do it.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were intrusted with a secret, for instance, could you undertake to + keep it?” + </p> + <p> + “I was several times in Dublin, sir, and I saw over the door of some + public office a big, brazen fellow, with the world on his back; and you + know that from what he seemed to suffer I thought he looked very like a + man that was keeping a secret. To tell God's truth, sir, I never like a + burden of any kind; and whenever I can get a man that will carry a share + of it, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! your honor, never mind him,” said Pat. “What the deuce are you at, + Dandy? Do you want to prevent the gintleman from engagin' you? Never mind + him, sir; he's as honest as the sun.” + </p> + <p> + “It matters not, Pat,” said the stranger; “I like him. Are you willing to + take service with me for a short time, my good fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “If you could get any one to give you a caracther, sir, perhaps I might,” + replied Dandy. + </p> + <p> + “How, sirrah! what do you mean?” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, that we humble folks haven't all the dishonesty to ourselves. I + think our superiors come in now and then for the lion's share of it. + There, now, is the Black Baronet.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not entering the service of the Black Baronet.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but the ould scoundrel struck his daughter to-day, because she + wouldn't consent to marry that young profligate, Lord Dunroe; and has her + locked up besides.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger had been standing with his back to the fire, when the Dandy + mentioned these revolting circumstances; for the truth was, that Lucy's + maid had taken upon her the office of that female virtue called curiosity, + and by the aid of her eye, her ear, and an open key-hole was able to + communicate to one or two of the other servants, in the strictest + confidence of course, all that had occurred during the interview between + father and daughter. Now it so happened, that Dandy, who had been more + than once, in the course of his visits, to the kitchen, promised, as he + said, to <i>metamurphy</i> one of them into Mrs. Dulcimer, <i>alias</i> + Murphy—that being his real name—was accidentally in the + kitchen while the dialogue lasted, and for some time afterwards; and as + the expectant Mrs. Dulcimer was one of the first to whom the secret was + solemnly confided, we need scarcely say that it was instantly transferred + to Dandy's keeping, who mentioned it more from honest indignation than + from any other motive. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult to describe the combination of feelings that might + be read in the stranger's fine features—distress, anger, compassion, + love, and sorrow, all struggled for mastery. He sat down, and there was an + instant pause in the conversation; for both Dandy and his relative felt + that he was not sufficiently collected to proceed with it. They + consequently, after glancing with surprise at each other, remained silent, + until the stranger should resume it. At length, after a struggle that was + evidently a severe one, he said, + </p> + <p> + “Now, my good fellow, no more of this buffoonery. Will you take service + with me for three months, since I am willing to accept you? Ay or no?” + </p> + <p> + “As willing as the flowers of May, your honor; and I trust you will never + have cause to find fault with me, so far as truth, honesty, and discretion + goes. I can see a thing and not see it. I can hear a thing and not hear + it. I can do a thing and not do it—but it must be honest. In short, + sir, if you have no objection, I'm your man. I like your face, sir; + there's something honorable and manly in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you would wish to name the amount of the wages you expect. If so, + speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a wage or wages I'll name, sir; that's a matter I'll lave to your + own generosity.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then; I start by the 'Fly' tonight, and you, observe, are to + accompany me. The trunk which I shall bring with me is already packed, so + that you will have very little trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy and his relative both left him, and he, with a view of allaying the + agitation which he felt, walked toward the residence of Father M'Mahon, + who had promised, if he could, to furnish him with further instructions + ere he should start for the metropolis. + </p> + <p> + After they had left the room, our friend Crackenfudge peeped out of the + back apartment, in order to satisfy himself that the coast was clear; and + after stretching his neck over the stairs to ascertain that there was no + one in the hall, he tripped down as if he were treading on razors, and + with a face brimful of importance made his escape from the inn, for, in + truth, the mode of his disappearing could be termed little else. + </p> + <p> + Now, in the days of which we write, it so happened that there was a vast + portion of bitter rivalry between mail coaches and their proprietors. At + this time an opposition coach, called “the Flash of Lightning”—to + denominate, we presume, the speed at which it went—ran against the + “Fly,” to the manifest, and frequently to the actual, danger of the then + reigning monarch's liege and loyal subjects. To the office of this coach, + then, did Crackenfudge repair, with an honorable intention of watching the + motions of our friend the stranger, prompted thereto by two motives—first, + a curiosity that was naturally prurient and mean; secondly, by an anxious + wish to serve Sir Thomas Gourlay, and, if possible, to involve himself in + his affairs, thus rendering his interest touching the great object of his + ambition—the magistracy—a matter not to be withheld. He + instantly took his seat for Dublin—an inside seat—in order to + conceal himself as much as possible from observation. Having arranged this + affair, he rode home in high spirits, and made preparations for starting, + in due time, by “the Flash of Lightning.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger, on his way to Father M'Mahon's, called upon his friend + Birney, with whom he had a long confidential conversation. They had + already determined, if the unfortunate heir of Red Hall could be traced, + and if his disappearance could, be brought home to the baronet, to take + such public or rather legal proceedings as they might be advised to by + competent professional advice. Our readers may already guess, however, + that the stranger was influenced by motives sufficiently strong and + decisive to prevent him, above all men, from appearing, publicly or at + all, in any proceedings that might be taken against the baronet. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at Father M'Mahon's, he found that excellent man at home; and + it was upon this occasion that he observed with more attention than before + the extraordinary neatness of his dwelling-house and premises. The + cleanliness, the order, the whiteness, the striking taste displayed, the + variety of culinary utensils, not in themselves expensive, but arranged + with surprising regularity, constituting a little paradise of convenience + and comfort, were all perfectly delightful to contemplate. The hall-door + was open, and when the stranger entered, he found no one in the kitchen, + for it is necessary to say here that, in this neat but unassuming abode of + benevolence and goodness, that which we have termed the hall-door led, in + the first instance, to the beautiful little kitchen we have just + described. The stranger, having heard voices in conversation with the + priest, resolved to wait a little until his visitors should leave him, as + he felt reluctant to intrude upon him while engaged with his parishioners. + He could not prevent himself, however, from overhearing the following + portion of their I conversation. + </p> + <p> + “And it was yesterday he put in the distraint?” + </p> + <p> + “It was, your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the dirty Turk; not a landlord at all is half so hard to ourselves as + those of our own religion: they'll show some lenity to a Protestant, and I + don't blame them for that, but they trample those belonging to their own + creed under their inhuman hoofs.” + </p> + <p> + “How much is it, Nogher?” + </p> + <p> + “Only nine pounds, your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, bring me a stamp in the course of the day, and I'll pass my + bill to him for the amount.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, sir, wid great respect, your reverence will do no such thing. + However I may get it settled, I won't lug you in by the head and + shoulders. You have done more of that kind of work than you could afford. + No, sir; but if you will send Father James up to my poor wife and daughter + that's so ill with this faver—that's all I want.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure he'll go, or rather I'll go myself, for he won't be home till + after station. Did this middleman landlord of yours know that there was + fever in your family when he; sent in the bailiffs?” + </p> + <p> + “To do him justice, sir, he did not; but he knows it since the day before + yesterday, and yet he won't take them off unless he gets either the rent + or security.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, and the hard-hearted Turk will have the security;—whisper,—call + down tomorrow with a stamp, and I'll put my name on it; and let these men, + these keepers, go about their business. My goodness! to think of having + two strange fellows night and day in a sick and troubled family! Oh, dear + me! one half the world doesn't know how the other lives. If many of the + rich and wealthy, Michael, could witness the scenes that I witness, the + sight might probably soften their hearts. Is this boy your son, Nogher?” + </p> + <p> + “He is, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you are giving him a good education; and I hope, besides, that he + is a good boy. Do you attend to your duty regularly, my good lad?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, plaise your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “And obey your parents?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said his father, “poor Mick doesn't lave us much to complain of + in that respect; he's a very good boy in general, your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my child,” said the priest, solemnly, placing his hand + upon the boy's head, who was sitting, “and guide your feet in the paths of + religion and virtue!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” exclaimed the poor affectionate lad, bursting into tears, “I + wish you would come to my mother! she is very ill, and so is my sister.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go, my child, in half-an-hour. I see you are a good youth, and + full of affection; I will go almost immediately. Here, Mat Ruly,” he + shouted, raising the parlor window, on seeing that neat boy pass;—“here, + you colossus—you gigantic prototype of grace and beauty;—I + say, go and saddle Freney the Robber immediately; I must attend a sick + call without delay. What do you stare and gape for? shut that fathomless + cleft in your face, and be off. Now, Nogher,” he said, once more + addressing the man, “slip down to-morrow with the stamp; or, stay, why + should these fellows be there two hours, and the house and the family as + they are? Sit down here for a few minutes, I'll go home with you; we can + get the stamp in Ballytrain, on our way,—ay, and draw up the bill + there too;—indeed we can and we will too; so not a syllable against + it. You know I must have my will, and that I'm a raging lion when + opposed.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless your reverence,” replied the man, moved almost to tears by his + goodness; “many an act of the kind your poor and struggling parishioners + has to thank you for.” + </p> + <p> + On looking into the kitchen, for the parlor door was open, he espied the + stranger, whom he approached with every mark of the most profound respect, + but still with perfect ease and independence. + </p> + <p> + After the first salutations were over— + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said the priest, “do you hold to your purpose of going to + Dublin?” + </p> + <p> + “I go this night,” replied the other; “and, except through the old man to + whom you are so kind as to give me the letter, I must confess I have but + slight expectations of success. Unless we secure this unfortunate young + man, that is, always supposing that he is alive, and are able clearly and + without question to identify his person, all we may do must be in vain, + and the baronet is firm in both title and estates.” + </p> + <p> + “That is evident,” replied the priest. “Could you find the heir alive, and + identify his person, of course your battle is won. Well; if there be + anything like a thread to guide you through the difficulties of this + labyrinth, I have placed it in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sensible of your good wishes, sir, and I thank you very much for the + interest you have so kindly taken in the matter. By the way, I engaged a + servant to accompany me—one Dulcimer, Dandy Dulcimer; pray, what + kind of moral character does he bear?” + </p> + <p> + “Dandy Dulcimer!” exclaimed the priest; “why, the thief of the world! is + it possible you have engaged him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? is he not honest?” asked the other, with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Honest!” replied the priest; “the vagabond's as honest a vagabond as ever + lived. You may trust him in anything and everything. When I call him a + vagabond, I only mean it in a kind and familiar sense; and, by the way, I + must give you an explanation upon the subject of my pony. You must have + heard me call him 'Freney the Robber' a few minutes ago. Now, not another + sense did I give him that name in but in an ironical one, just like <i>lucus + a non lucendo</i>, or, in other words, because the poor creature is + strictly honest and well tempered. And, indeed, there are some animals + much more moral in their disposition than others. Some are kind, + affectionate, benevolent, and grateful; and some, on the other hand, are + thieving robbers and murderers. No, sir, I admit that I was wrong, and, so + to speak, I owe Freney an apology for having given him a bad name; but + then again I have made it up to him in other respects. Now, you'll + scarcely believe what I am going to tell you, although you may, for not a + word of lie in it. When Freney sometimes is turned out into my fields, he + never breaks bounds, nor covets, so to speak, his neighbor's property, but + confines himself strictly and honestly to his own; and I can tell you it's + not every horse would do that, or man either. He knows my voice, too, and, + what is more, my very foot, for he will whinny when he hears it, and + before he sees me at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said the stranger, exceedingly amused at this narrative, “how does + your huge servant get on?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it Mat Ruly?—why, sir, the poor boy's as kind-hearted and + benevolent, and has as sharp an appetite as ever. He told me that he cried + yesterday when bringing a little assistance to a poor family in the + neighborhood. But, touching this matter on which you are engaged, will you + be good enough to write to me from time to time? for I shall feel anxious + to hear how you get on.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger promised to do so, and after having received two letters from + him they shook hands and separated. + </p> + <p> + We have stated before that Dandy Dulcimer had a sweetheart in the service + of Sir Thomas Gourlay. Soon after the interview between the stranger and + Dandy, and while the former had gone to get the letters from Father + M'Mahon, this same sweetheart, by name Alley Mahon, came to have a word or + two with Paudeen Gair, or Pat Sharpe. When Paudeen saw her, he imputed the + cause of her visit to something connected with Dandy Dulcimer, his cousin; + for, as the latter had disclosed to him the revelation which Alley had + made, he took it for granted that the Dandy had communicated to her the + fact of his being about to accept service with the stranger at the inn, + and to proceed with him to Dublin. And, such, indeed, was the actual + truth. Paudeen had, on behalf of Dandy, all but arranged the matter with + the stranger a couple of days before, Dandy being a consenting party, so + that nothing was wanting but an interview between the latter and the + stranger, in order to complete the negotiation. + </p> + <p> + “Pat,” said Alley, after he had brought her up to a little back-room on + the second story, “I know that your family ever and always has been an + honest family, and that a stain of thraichery or disgrace was never upon + one of their name.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, and you, Alley; I am proud to know that what you say is right + and true.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” she replied, “it is, and every one knows it. Now, then, can + you keep a secret, for the sake of truth and conscience, ay, and religion; + and if all will not do, for the sake of her that paid back to your family, + out of her own private purse, what her father robbed them of?” + </p> + <p> + “By all that's lovely,” replied Pat, “if there's a livin' bein' I'd + sacrifice my life for, it's her.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen; I want you to secure two seats in the 'Fly,' for this night; + inside seats, or if you can't get insides, then outsides will do.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop where you are,” replied Pat, about to start downstairs; “the thing + will be done in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad, Pat?” said she; “take the money with you before you go.” + </p> + <p> + “Begad,” said Pat, “my heart was in my mouth—here, let us have it. + And so the darling young lady is forced to fly from the tyrant?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pat,” said Alice, solemnly, “for the sake of the living God, don't + breathe that you know anything about it; we're lost if you do.” + </p> + <p> + “If Dandy was here, Alley,” he replied, “I'd make him swear it upon your + lips; but, hand us the money, for there's little time to be lost; I hope + all the seats aren't taken.” + </p> + <p> + He was just in time, however; and in a few minutes returned, having + secured for two the only inside seats that were left untaken at the + moment, although there were many claimants for them in a few minutes + afterwards. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Alley,” said he, after he had returned from the coach-office, which, + by the way, was connected with the inn, “what does all this mane? I think + I could guess something about it. A runaway, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by a runaway?” she replied; “of course she is running + away from her brute of a father, and I am goin' with her.” + </p> + <p> + “But isn't she goin' wid somebody else?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Alley; “I know where she is goin'; but she is goin' wid + nobody but myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Alley,” replied Pat, shrewdly, “I see she has kept you in the dark; + but I don't blame her. Only, if you can keep a secret, so can I.” + </p> + <p> + “Pat,” said she, “desire the coachman to stop at the white gate, where two + faymales will be waitin' for it, and let the guard come down and open the + door for us; so that we won't have occasion to spake. It's aisy to know + one's voice, Pat.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll manage it all,” said Pat; “make your mind aisy—and what is + more, I'll not breathe a syllable to mortual man, woman, or child about + it. That would be an ungrateful return for her kindness to our family. May + God bless her, and grant her happiness, and that's the worst I wish her.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet, in the course of that evening, was sitting in his dining-room + alone, a bottle of Madeira before him, for indeed it is necessary to say, + that although unsocial and inhospitable, he nevertheless indulged pretty + freely in wine. He appeared moody, and gulped down the Madeira as a man + who wished either to sustain his mind against care, or absolutely to drown + memory, and probably the force of conscience. At length, with a flushed + face, and a voice made more deep and stern by his potations, and the + reflections they excited, he rang the bell, and in a moment the butler + appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Is Gillespie in the house, Gibson?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Send him up.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes Gillespie entered; and indeed it would be difficult to + see a more ferocious-looking ruffian than this scoundrel who was groom to + the baronet. Fame, or scandal, or truth, as the case may be, had settled + the relations between Sir Thomas and him, not merely as those of master + and servant, but as those of father and son. Be this as it may, however, + the similarity of figure and feature was so extraordinary, that the + inference could be considered by no means surprising. + </p> + <p> + “Tom,” said the baronet, “I suppose there is a Bible in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say, sir,” replied the ruffian. “I never saw any one in use. O, + yes, Miss Gourlay has one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the other, with a gloomy reflection, “I forgot; she is, in + addition to her other accomplishments, a Bible reader. Well, stay where + you are; I shall get it myself.” + </p> + <p> + He accordingly rose and proceeded to Lucy's chamber, where, after having + been admitted, he found the book he sought, and such was the absence of + mind, occasioned by the apprehensions he felt, that he brought away the + book, and forgot to lock the door. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” said the baronet, sternly, when he returned, “do you respect + this book? It is the Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, sir. I respect every book that has readin' in it—printed + readin'.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is the Bible, on which the Christian religion is founded.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I don't doubt that,” replied the enlightened master of horse; + “but I prefer the <i>Seven Champions of Christendom</i>, or the <i>History + of Valentine and Orson</i>, or <i>Fortunatus's Purse</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't relish the Bible, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir; I never read a line of it—although I heard a + great deal about! it. Isn't that the book the parsons preach I from?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” replied the baronet, in his deep voice. “This book is the source + and origin and history of the revelation of God's will to man; this is the + book on which oaths are taken, and when taken falsely, the falsehood is + perjury, and the individual so perjuring himself is transported, either + for life or a term of years, while living and when dead, Gillespie—mark + me well, sir—when dead, his soul goes to eternal perdition in the + flames of hell. Would you now, knowing this—that you would be + transported in this world, and damned in the next—would you, I say, + take an oath upon this book and break it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, not after what you said.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I am a magistrate, and I wish to administer an oath to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir, I'll swear whatever you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Then listen—take the book in your right hand—you shall swear + the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God! + You swear to execute whatever duty I may happen to require at your hands, + and to keep the performance of that duty a secret from every living + mortal, and besides to keep secret the fact that I am in any way connected + with it—you swear this?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir,” replied the other, kissing the book. + </p> + <p> + The baronet paused a little. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he added, “consider yourself solemnly sworn, and pray + recollect that if you violate this oath—in other words, if you + commit perjury, I shall have you transported as sure as your name is + Gillespie.” + </p> + <p> + “But your honor has sworn me to secrecy, and yet I don't know the secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither shall you—for twenty-four hours longer. I am not and shall + not be in a condition to mention it to you sooner, but I put you under the + obligation now, in order that you may have time to reflect upon its + importance. You may go.” + </p> + <p> + Gillespie felt exceedingly puzzled as to the nature of the services about + to be required at his hands, but as every attempt to solve this difficulty + was fruitless, he resolved to await the event in patience, aware that the + period between his anxiety on the subject and a knowledge of it was but + short. + </p> + <p> + We need not hesitate to assure our readers, that if Lucy Gourlay had been + apprised, or even dreamt for a moment, that the stranger and she were on + that night to be fellow-travellers in the same coach, she would + unquestionably have deferred her journey to tha metropolis, or, in other + words, her escape from the senseless tyranny of her ambitious father. + Fate, however, is fate, and it is precisely the occurrence of these + seemingly incidental coincidences that in fact, as well as in fiction, + constitutes the principal interest of those circumstances which give + romance to the events of human life and develop its character. + </p> + <p> + The “Fly” started from Ballytrain at the usual hour, with only two inside + passengers—to wit, our friend the stranger and a wealthy + stock-farmer from the same parish. He was a large, big-boned, good-humored + fellow, dressed in a strong frieze outside coat or jock, buckskin + breeches, top-boots, and a heavy loaded whip, his inseparable companion + wherever he went. + </p> + <p> + The coach, on arriving at the white gate, pulled up, and two females, + deeply and closely veiled, took their seats inside. Of course, the natural + politeness of the stranger prevented him from obtruding his conversation + upon ladies with whom he was not acquainted. The honest farmer, however, + felt no such scruples, nor, as it happened, did one at least of the ladies + in question. + </p> + <p> + “This is a nice affair,” he observed, “about the Black Baronet's + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “What is a nice affair?” asked our friend Alley, for she it was, as the + reader of course is already aware—“What is a nice affair?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that Miss Gourlay, they say, fell in love with a buttonmaker's clerk + from London, and is goin' to marry him in spite of all opposition.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's your authority for that?” asked Alley; “but whoever is, is a liar, + and the truth is not in him—that's what I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but what do you know about it?” asked the grazier. “You're not in + Miss Gourlay's saicrets—and a devilish handsome, gentlemanly lookin' + fellow they say the button-maker is. Faith, I can tell you, I give + tooth-an-egg-credit. The fellow will get a darlin' at all events—and + he'll be very bad indeed, if he's not worth a ship-load of that profligate + Lord Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Alley, “I agree with you there, at all events; for God + sees that the same Lord Dunroe will make the cream of a bad husband to + whatsoever poor woman will suffer by him. A bad bargain he will be at + best, and in that I agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “So far, then,” replied the grazier, “we do agree; an', dang my buttons, + but I'll lave it to this gentleman if it wouldn't be betther for Miss + Gourlay to marry a daicent button-maker any day, than such a hurler as + Dunroe. What do you say, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “But who is this button-maker,” asked the stranger, “and where is he to be + found?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, on recognizing his voice, could scarcely prevent her emotion from + becoming perceptible; but owing to the darkness of the night, and the + folds of her thick veil, her fellow-travellers observed nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied the grazier, who had evidently, from a lapse of memory, + substituted one species of manufacture for another thing, “they tell me he + is stopping in the head inn in Ballytrain; an', dang my buttons, but he + must be a fellow of mettle, for sure didn't he kick that tyrannical ould + scoundrel, the Black Baronet, down-stairs, and out of the hall-door, when + he came to bullyrag over him about his daughter—the darlin'?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's distress was here incredible; and had not her self-command and + firmness of character been indeed unusual, she would have felt it + extremely difficult to keep her agitation within due bounds. + </p> + <p> + “You labor under a mistake there,” replied the stranger; “I happen to know + that nothing of the kind occurred. Some warm words passed between them, + but no blows. A young person named Fenton, whom I know, was present.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” observed the grazier, “that's the young fellow that goes mad + betimes, an' a quare chap he is, by all accounts. They say he went mad for + love.” + </p> + <p> + From this it was evident that rumor had, as usual, assigned several causes + for Fenton's insanity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe so,” replied the stranger. + </p> + <p> + Alley, who thought she had been overlooked in this partial dialogue, + determined to sustain her part in the conversation with a dignity becoming + her situation, now resolved to flourish in with something like effect. + </p> + <p> + “They know nothing about it,” she said, “that calls Miss Gourlay's + sweetheart a button-maker. Miss Gourlay's not the stuff to fall in love + wid any button-maker, even if he made buttons of goold; an' sure they say + that the king an' queen, and the whole royal family wears golden buttons.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, in spaiking of buttons,” observed the grazier, with a grin, + “that you might lave the queen out.” + </p> + <p> + “And why should I lave the queen out?” asked Alley, indignantly, and with + a towering resolution to defend the privileges of her sex. “Why ought I + lave the queen out, I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied the grazier, with a still broader grin, “barring she wears + the breeches, I don't know what occasion she could have for buttons.” + </p> + <p> + “That only shows your ignorance,” said Alley; “don't you know that all + ladies wear habit-shirts, and that habit-shirts must have buttons?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of a shirt havin' buttons anywhere but at the neck,” + replied the grazier, who drew the inference in question from his own, + which were made upon a very simple and primitive fashion. + </p> + <p> + “But you don't know either,” responded Alley, launching nobly into the + purest fiction, from an impression that the character of her mistress + required it for her defence, “you don't know that nobody is allowed to + make buttons for the queen but a knight o' the garther.” + </p> + <p> + “Garther!” exclaimed the grazier, with astonishment. “Why what the dickens + has garthers to do wid buttons?” + </p> + <p> + “More than you think,” replied the redoubtable Alley. “The queen wears + buttons to her garthers, and the knight o' the garther is always obliged + to try them on; but always, of course, afore company.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger was exceedingly amused at this bit of by-play between Alley + and the honest grazier, and the more so as it drew the conversation from a + point of the subject that was painful to him in the last degree, inasmuch + as it directly involved the character of Miss Gourlay. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know, then,” proceeded Alley, triumphantly, “but the + button-maker that Miss Gourlay has fallen in love with may be a knight o' + the garther?” + </p> + <p> + “Begad, there maybe a great dale in that, too,” replied the unsuspicious + grazier, who never dreamt that Alley's knowledge of court etiquette might + possibly be rather limited, and her accounts of it somewhat apocryphal;—“begad, + there may. Well,” he added, with an honest and earnest tone of sincerity, + “for my part, and from all ever I heard of that darlin' of a beauty, she + deserves a knight o' the shire, let alone a knight o' the garther. They + say the good she does among the poor and destitute since they came home is + un-tellable. God bless her! And that she may live long and die happy is + the worst that I or anybody that knows her wishes her. It's well known + that she had her goodness from her angel of a mother at all events, for + they say that such another woman for charity and kindness to the poor + never lived; and by all accounts she led an unhappy and miserable life wid + her Turk of a husband, who, they say, broke her heart, and sent her to an + early grave.” + </p> + <p> + Alley was about to bear fiery and vehement testimony to the truth of all + this; but Lucy, whose bosom heaved up strongly two or three times at these + affecting allusions to her beloved mother, and who almost sobbed aloud, + not merely from sorrow but distress, arising from the whole tenor of the + conversation, whispered a few words into her ear, and she was instantly + silent. The farmer seemed somewhat startled; for, in truth, as we have + said, he was naturally one of those men who wish to hear themselves talk. + In this instance, however, he found, after having made three or four + colloquial attacks upon the stranger, but without success, that he must + only have recourse either to soliloquy or silence. He accordingly + commenced to hum over several old Irish airs, to which he ventured to join + the words—at first in a very subdued undertone. Whenever the coach + stopped, however, to change horses, which it generally did at some public + house or inn, the stranger could observe that the grazier always went out, + and on his return appeared to be affected with a still stronger relish for + melody. By degrees he proceeded from a tolerably distinct undertone to + raise his voice into a bolder key, when, at last, throwing aside all + reserve, he commenced the song of <i>Cruiskeen Lawn</i>, which he gave in + admirable style and spirit, and with a rich mellow voice, that was + calculated to render every justice to that fine old air. In this manner, + he literally sang his way until within a few miles of the metropolis. He + was not, however, without assistance, during, at least, a portion of the + journey. Our friend Dandy, who was on the outside, finding that the coach + came to a level space on the road, placed the dulcimer on his knees, and + commenced an accompaniment on that instrument, which produced an effect + equally comic and agreeable. And what added to the humor of this + extraordinary duet—if we can call it so—was the delight with + which each intimated his satisfaction at the performance of the other, as + well as with the terms in which it was expressed. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, Dandy! dang my buttons, but you shine upon the wires. Ah, + thin, it's you that is and ever was the wiry lad—and sure that was + what made you take to the dulcimer of course. Dandy, achora, will you give + us, 'Merrily kissed the Quaker?' and I ask it, Dandy, bekaise we are in a + religious way, and have a quakers' meetn' in the coach.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Dandy; “but I'll give you the 'Bonny brown Girl,' that's + worth a thousand of it, you thief.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Dandy, and so it is; and, as far as I can see in the dark, dang my + buttons, but I think we have one here, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you for the compliment, sir,” said Alley, appropriating it + without ceremony to herself. “I feel much obliged to you, sir; but I'm not + worthy of it.” + </p> + <p> + “My darling,” replied the jolly farmer, “you had betther not take me up + till I fall. How do you know it was for you it was intended? You're not + the only lady in the coach, avourneen.” + </p> + <p> + “And you're not the only gintleman in the coach, Jemmy Doran,” replied + Alley, indignantly. “I know you well, man alive—and you picked up + your politeness from your cattle, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “A better chance of getting it from them than from you,” replied, the + hasty grazier. “But I tell you at once to take it aisy, achora; don't get + on fire, or you'll burn the coach—the compliment was not intended + for you, at all events. Come, Dandy, give us the 'Bonny brown Girl,' and + I'll help you, as well as I'm able.” + </p> + <p> + In a moment the dulcimer was at work on the top of the coach, and the + merry farmer, at the top of his lungs, lending his assistance inside. + </p> + <p> + When the performance had been concluded, Alley, who was brimful of + indignation at the slight which had been put upon her, said, “Many thanks + to you, Misther Doran, but if you plaise we'll dispense wid your music for + the rest of the journey. Remember you're not among your own bullocks and + swine—and that this roaring and grunting is and must be very + disagreeable to polite company.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, whoever you are, you have the advantage of me,” replied the + good-natured farmer, “and besides I believe you're right—I'm afraid + I've given offince; and as we have gone so far—but no, dang my + buttons, I won't—I was going to try 'Kiss my Lady,' along wid Dandy, + it goes beautiful on the dulcimer—but—but—ah, not half + so well as on a purty pair of lips. Alley, darlin',” he proceeded now, + evidently in a maudlin state, “I never lave you, but I'm in a hurry home + to you, for it's your lips that's—” + </p> + <p> + “It's false, Mr. Doran,” exclaimed Alley; “how dare you, sir, bring my + name, or my lips either, into comparishment wid yourself? You want to take + away my character, Mr. Doran; but I have friends, and a strong faction at + my back, that will make you suffer for this.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer, however, who was elevated into the seventh heaven of domestic + affection, paid no earthly attention to her, but turning to the stranger + said: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I've the best wife that ever faced the sun—” + </p> + <p> + “I,” exclaimed Alley, “am not to be insulted and calumnied, ay, an' + backbitten before my own face, Misther Doran, and take my word you'll hear + of this to your cost—I've a faction.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir—gintleman—miss, over the way there—for throth, for + all so close as you're veiled, you haven't a married look—but as I + was sayin', we fell in love wid one another by mistake—for there was + an ould matchmaker, by name Biddlety Girtha, a daughter of ould Jemmy + Trailcudgel's—God be good to him—father of the present + strugglin' poor man of that name—and as I had hard of a celebrated + beauty that lived about twelve or fifteen miles down the country that I + wished to coort—and she, on the other hand, having hard of a very + fine, handsome young fellow in my own neighborhood—what does the + ould thief do but brings us together, in the fair of Baltihorum, and palms + her off on me as the celebrated beauty, and palms myself on her as the + fine, handsome young fellow from the parish of Ballytrain, and, as I said, + so we fell in love wid one another by mistake, and didn't discover the + imposthure that the ould vagabond had put on us until afther the marriage. + However, I'm not sorry for it—she turned out a good wife to me, at + all events—for, besides bringin' me a stockin' of guineas, she has + brought me twelve of as fine childre' as you'd see in the kingdom of + Ireland, ay, or in the kingdom of heaven either. Barrin' that she's a + little hasty in the temper—and sometimes—do you persave?—has + the use of her—there's five of them on each hand at any rate—do + you undherstand—I say, barrin' that, and that she often amuses + herself—just when she has nothing else to do—and by way of + keepin' her hand in—I say, sir, and you, miss, over the way—she + now and then amuses herself by turnin' up the little finger of her right + hand—but what matter for all that—there's no one widout their + little weeny failin's. My own hair's a little sandy, or so—some + people say it's red, but I think myself it's only a little sandy—as + I said, sir—so out of love and affection for the best of wives, I'll + give you her favorite, the 'Red-haired man's wife.' Dandy, you thief, will + you help me to do the 'Red-haired man's wife?'” + </p> + <p> + “Wid pleasure, Misther Doran,” replied Dandy, adjusting his dulcimer. + “Come now, start, and I'm wid you.” + </p> + <p> + The performance was scarcely finished, when a sob or two was heard from + Alley, who, during this ebullition of the grazier's, had been nursing her + wrath to keep it warm, as Burns says. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not without friends and protectors, Mr. Doran—that won't see me + rantinized in a mail-coach, and mocked and made little of—whereof I + have a strong back, as you'll soon find, and a faction that will make you + sup sorrow yet.” + </p> + <p> + All this virtuous indignation was lost, however, on the honest grazier, + who had scarcely concluded the “Red-haired man's wife,” ere he fell fast + asleep, in which state he remained—having simply changed the style + and character of his melody, the execution of the latter being equally + masterly—until they reached the hotel at which the coach always + stopped in the metropolis. + </p> + <p> + The weather, for the fortnight preceding, had been genial, mild, and + beautiful. For some time before they reached the city, that gradual + withdrawing of darkness began to take place, which resembles the + disappearance of sorrow from a heavy heart, and harbinges to the world the + return of cheerfulness and light. The dim, spectral paleness of the + eastern sky by degrees received a clearer and healthier tinge, just as the + wan cheek of an invalid assumes slowly, but certainly, the glow of + returning health. Early as it was, an odd individual was visible here and + there, and it may, be observed, that at a very early hour every person + visible in the streets is characterized by a chilly and careworn + appearance, looking, with scarcely an exception, both solitary and sad, + just as if they had not a single friend on earth, but, on the contrary, + were striving to encounter; struggles and difficulties which they were + incompetent to meet. + </p> + <p> + As our travellers entered the city, that bygone class who, as guardians of + the night, were appointed to preserve the public peace, every one of them + a half felon and whole accomplice, were seen to pace slowly along, their + poles under their left arm, their hands mutually thrust into the capacious + cuffs of their watchcoats, and each with a frowzy woollen nightcap under + his hat. Here and there a staggering toper might be seen on his way home + from the tavern brawl or the midnight debauch, advancing, or attempting to + advance, as if he wanted to trace Hogarth's line of beauty. From some + quarters the wild and reckless shriek of female profligacy might be heard, + the tongue, though loaded with blasphemies, nearly paralyzed by + intoxication. Nor can we close here. The fashionable carriage made its + appearance filled with beauty shorn of its charms by a more refined + dissipation—beauty, no longer beautiful, returning with pale cheeks, + languid eyes, and exhausted frame—after having breathed a thickened + and suffocating atmosphere, calculated to sap the physical health, if not + to disturb the pure elements of moral feeling, principle, and delicacy, + without which woman becomes only an object of contempt. + </p> + <p> + Up until the arrival of the “Fly” at the hotel, the gray dusk of morning, + together with the thick black veil to which we have alluded, added to that + natural politeness which prevents a gentleman from staring at a lady who + may wish to avoid observation—owing to these causes, we say, the + stranger had neither inclination nor opportunity to recognize the features + of Lucy Gourlay. When the coach drew up, however, with that courtesy and + attention that are always due to the sex, and, we may add, that are very + seldom omitted with a pretty travelling companion, the stranger stepped + quickly out of it in order to offer her assistance, which was accepted + silently, being acknowledged only by a graceful inclination of the head. + When, however, on leaving the darkness of the vehicle he found her hand + and arm tremble, and had sufficient light to recognize her through the + veil, he uttered an exclamation expressive at once of delight, wonder, and + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Good God, my dear Lucy,” said he in a low whisper, so as not to let his + words reach other ears, “how is this? In heaven's name, how does it happen + that you travel by a common night coach, and are here at such an hour?” + </p> + <p> + She blushed deeply, and as she spoke he observed that her voice was infirm + and tremulous: “It is most unfortunate,” she replied, “that we should both + have travelled in the same conveyance. I request you will instantly leave + me.” + </p> + <p> + “What! leave you alone and unattended at this hour?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not unattended,” she replied; “that faithful creature, though + somewhat blunt and uncouth in her manners, is all truth and attachment, so + far as I at least am concerned. But I beg you will immediately withdraw. + If we are seen holding conversation, or for a moment in each other's + society, I cannot tell what the consequences may be to my reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Lucy,” replied the stranger, “that risk may easily be + avoided. This meeting seems providential—I entreat you, let us + accept it as such and avail ourselves of it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is,” she replied, whilst her glorious dark eye kindled, and her + snowy temples got red as fire, “that is, that I should elope with you, I + presume? Sir,” she added, “you are the last man from whom I should have + expected an insult. You forget yourself, and you forget me.” + </p> + <p> + The high sense of honor that flashed from that glorious eye, and which + made itself felt through the indignant tones of her voice, rebuked him at + once. + </p> + <p> + “I have erred,” said he, “but I have erred from an excess of affection—will + you not pardon me?” + </p> + <p> + She felt the difficulty and singular distress of her position, and in + spite of her firmness and the unnatural harshness of her father, she + almost regretted the step she had taken. As it was, she made no reply to + the stranger, but seemed absorbed in thoughts of bitterness and + affliction. + </p> + <p> + “Let me press you,” said the stranger, “to come into the hotel; you + require both rest and refreshment—and I entreat and implore you, for + the sake both of my happiness and your own, to grant me a quarter of an + hour's conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “I have reconsidered our position,” she replied. “Alley will fetch in our + very slight luggage; she has money, too, to pay the guard and driver—she + says it is usual; and I feel that to give you a short explanation now may + possibly enable us to avoid much future embarrassment and misunderstanding—Alley, + however, must accompany us, and be present in the room. But then,” she + added, starting, “is it proper?—is it delicate?—no, no, I + cannot, I cannot; it might compromise me with the world. Leave me, I + entreat, I implore, I command you. I ask it as a proof of your love. We + will, I trust, have other opportunities. Let us trust, too, to time—let + us trust to God—but I will do nothing wrong, and I feel that this + would be unworthy of my mother's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the stranger, “I shall obey you as a proof of my love for + you; but will you not allow me to write to you?—will you not give me + your address?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she returned; “and I enjoin you, as you hope, that we shall ever be + happy, not to attempt to trace me. I ask this from you as a man of honor. + Of course it may or perhaps it will be discovered that we travelled in the + same coach. The accident may be misinterpreted. My father may seek an + explanation from you—he may ask if you know where I am. Should I + have placed the knowledge of my retreat in your possession, you know that, + as a man of honor, you could not tell him a falsehood. Goodby,” she added, + “we may meet in better times, but I much fear that our destinies will be + separated forever—Come, Alley.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice softened as she uttered the last words, and the stranger felt + the influence of her ascendency over him too strongly to hesitate in + manifesting this proof of his obedience to her wishes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. Crackenfudge put upon a Wrong Scent + </h2> + <h3> + —Miss Gourlay takes Refuge with an Old Friend. + </h3> + <p> + Little did Lucy dream that the fact of their discovery as + fellow-travellers would so soon reach her father's ears, and that the + provision against that event, and the inferences which calumny might draw + from it, as suggested by her prudence and good sense, should render her + advice to the stranger so absolutely necessary. + </p> + <p> + Whilst the brief dialogue which we have recited at the close of the last + chapter took place, another, which as a faithful historian we are bound to + detail, was proceeding between the redoubtable Crackenfudge and our + facetious friend, Dandy Dulcimer. Crackenfudge in following the stranger + to the metropolis by the 'Flash of Lightning', in order to watch his + movements, was utterly ignorant that Lucy had been that gentleman's + fellow-traveller in the Fly. A strong opposition, as we have already said, + existed between the two coaches, and so equal was their speed, that in + consequence of the mutual delay caused by changing horses, they frequently + passed each other on the road, the driver, guard, and outside passengers + of both coaches uniformly grimacing at each other amidst a storm of + groans, cheers, and banter on both sides. So equal, however, were their + relative powers of progress, that no effort on either side was found + sufficient to enable any one of them to claim a victory. On the contrary, + their contests generally ended in a dead heat, or something very nearly + approaching it. On the night in question the 'Fly' had a slight advantage, + and but a slight one. Before the coachman had time to descend from his + ample seat, the 'Flash of Lightning' came dashing in at a most reckless + speed—the unfortunate horses snorting and panting—steaming + with smoke, which rose from them in white wreaths, and streaming in such a + manner with perspiration that it was painful to look upon them. + </p> + <p> + Crackenfudge was one of the first out of the 'Flash of Lightning', which, + we should say, drew up at a rival establishment, directly opposite that + which patronized the 'Fly'. He lost no time in sending in his trunk by + “boots,” or some other of those harpies that are always connected with + large hotels in the metropolis. Having accomplished this, he set himself, + but quite in a careless way, to watch the motions of the stranger. For + this purpose he availed himself of a position from whence he could see + without being himself seen. Judge, then, of his surprise on ascertaining + that the female whom he saw with the stranger was no other than Lucy + Gourlay, and in conversation with the very individual with whose name, + motions, and projects he wished so anxiously to become acquainted. If he + watched Miss Gourlay and her companion well however, he himself was + undergoing quite as severe a scrutiny. Dandy Dulcimer having observed him, + in consequence of some hints that he had already received from a source + with which the reader may become ultimately acquainted, approached, and + putting his hand to his hat, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, Counsellor Crackenfudge, is it here I find your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see a'm here, Dandy, my fine fellow?” and this he uttered in a + very agreeable tone, simply because he felt a weak and pitiable ambition + to be addressed by the title of “Your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “What does all this mean, Dandy?” asked Crackenfudge; “it looks vary odd + to see Miss Gourlay in conversation with an impostor—a' think it's + an elopement, Dandy. And pray Dandy, what brought you to town?” + </p> + <p> + “I think your honor's a friend to Sir Thomas, counsellor?” replied Dandy, + answering by another question. + </p> + <p> + “A' am, Dandy, a stanch friend to Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise I know that if you aren't a friend of his, he is a friend of + yours. I was playin' a tune the other day in the hall, and while I was in + the very middle of it I heard him say—'We must have Counsellor + Crackenfudge on the bench;' and so they had a long palaver about you, and + the whole thing ended by Sir Thomas getting the tough old Captain to + promise you his support, with some great man that they called <i>custos + rascalorum</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “A' am obliged to Sir Thomas,” said Crackenfudge, “and a' know he is a + true friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but will you now be a true friend to him, plaise your honor, + counsellor?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I will, Dandy, my fine fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, listen—Sir Thomas got me put into this strange fellow's + sarvice, in ordher to ah—ahem—why, you see in ordher to keep + an eye upon him—and, what do you think? but he's jist afther tellin' + me that he doesn't think he'll have any further occasion for my sarvices.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a' think that looks suspicious—it's an elopement, there's no + doubt about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, your honor; although I am myself completely in the dark about + it, any farther than this, counsellor—listen, now—I know the + road they're goin', for I heard it by accident—they'll be off, too, + immediately. Now, if your honor is a true friend to Sir Thomas, you'll + take a post chaise and start off a little before them upon the Isaas road. + You know that by going before them, they never can suspect that you're + followin' them. I'll remain here to watch their motions, and while you + keep before them, I'll keep after them, so that it will be the very sorra + if they escape us both. Whisper, counsellor, your honor—I'm in Sir + Thomas's pay. Isn't that enough? but I want assistance, and if you're his + friend, as you say, you will be guided by me and sarve him.” + </p> + <p> + Crackenfudge felt elated; he thought of the magistracy, of his privilege + to sit on the bench in all the plenitude of official authority; he + reflected that he could commit mendicants, impostors, vagrants, and + vagabonds of all descriptions, and that he would be entitled to the solemn + and reverential designation of “Your worship.” Here, then, was an opening. + The very object for which he came to town was accomplished—that is + to say, the securing to himself the magistracy through the important + services rendered to Sir Thomas Gourlay. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to him, we admit, that as it must have been evidently a case + of elopement, it might be his duty to have the parties arrested, until at + least the parent of the lady could be apprised of the circumstances. There + was, however, about Crackenfudge a wholesome regard for what is termed a + whole skin, and as he had been, through the key-hole of the Mitre inn, a + witness of certain scintillations and flashes that lit up the eye of this + most mysterious stranger, he did not conceive that such steps and his own + personal safety were compatible. In the meantime, he saw that there was an + air of sincerity and anxiety about Dandy Dulcimer, which he could impute + to nothing but a wish, if possible, to make a lasting friend of Sir + Thomas, by enabling him to trace his daughter. + </p> + <p> + Dandy's plea and plan both succeeded, and in the course of a few minutes + Crackenfudge was posting at an easy rate toward the town of Naas. Many a + look did he give out of the chaise, with a hope of being able to observe + the vehicle which contained those for whom he was on the watch, but in + vain. Nothing of the kind was visible; but notwithstanding this he drove + on to the town, where he ordered breakfast in a private room, with the + anxious expectation that they might soon arrive. At length, his patience + having become considerably exhausted, he determined to return to Dublin, + and provided he met them, with Dandy in pursuit, to wheel about and also + to join the musician in the chase. Having settled his bill, which he did + not do without half an hour's wrangling with the waiter, he came to the + hall door, from which a chaise with close Venetian blinds was about to + start, and into which he thought the figure of a man entered, who very + much resembled that of Corbet, Sir Thomas's house steward and most + confidential servant. Of this, however, he could not feel quite certain, + as he had not at all got a glimpse of his face. On inquiring, he found + that the chaise contained another man also, who was so ill as not to be + able to leave it. One of them, however, drank some spirits in the chaise, + and got a bottle of it, together with some provisions, to take along with + them. + </p> + <p> + So far had Crackenfudge been most adroitly thrown off the trace of Miss + Gourlay and the stranger; and when Dandy joined his master, who, from + principles of delicacy and respect for Lucy, went to the opposite inn, he + candidly told him of the hoax he had played off on the embryo magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “I sent him, your honor, upon what they call a fool's errand, and certain + I am, he is the very boy will deliver it—not but that he's the + divil's own knave on the other. The truth is, sir, it's just one day a + knave and the other a fool with him.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger paid little attention to these observations, but walked up + and down the room in a state of sorrow and disappointment, that completely + abstracted him from every object around him. + </p> + <p> + “Good. God!” he exclaimed, “she will not even allow me to know the place + of her retreat, and she may stand in need of aid and support, and probably + of protection, a thousand ways. Would to heaven I knew how to trace her, + and become acquainted with her residence, and that more for her own sake + than for mine!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” said Dandy, “I see a cousin o' mine over the + way; would your honor give me a couple of hours to spend wid him? I + haven't seen him this—God knows how long.” + </p> + <p> + Well might Dandy say so—the cousin alluded to having been only + conceived and brought forth from his own own fertile fancy at the moment, + or rather, while his master was unconsciously uttering his soliloquy. The + truth was, that while the latter spoke, Dandy, whom he had ordered to + attend him, without well knowing why, observed a hackney-coach draw up at + the door of the opposite hotel; but this fact would not have in any + particular way arrested his attention, had he not seen Alley Mahon giving + orders to the driver. + </p> + <p> + “You'll give me a couple of hours, your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you the whole day, Dandy, if you wish. I shall be engaged, and + will not require any further services from you until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy looked at him very significantly, and with a degree of assurance, + for which we can certainly offer no apology, puckered his naturally comic + face into a most mysterious grin, and closing one eye, or in other words, + giving his master a knowing wink, said— + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir, I know how many banes makes five at any rate—let me + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, you varlet,” said his master, “by that impudent wink?” + </p> + <p> + “Wink?” replied Dandy, with a face of admirable composure. “Oh, you + observed it, then? Sure, God help me, it's a wakeness I have in one of my + eyes ever since I had the small-pock.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray which eye is it in?” asked his master. + </p> + <p> + “In the left, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “But, you scoundrel, you winked at me with the right.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, sir, maybe I did, for it sometimes passes from the one to the + other wid me—but not often indeed—it's principally in my + left.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; but in speaking to me, use no such grimaces in future; and now + go see your cousin. I shall sleep for a few hours, for I feel somewhat + jaded, paid out of order on many accounts. But before you go, listen to + me, and mark me well. You saw me in conversation with Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + Dandy, whose perception was quick as lightning, had his finger on his lips + immediately. “I understand you, sir,” said he; “and once for all, sir,” he + proceeded, “do you listen to me. You may lay it down as one of the ten + commandments, that any secret you may plaise to trust me with, will be + undher a tombstone. I'm not the stuff that a traitor or villain is made + of. So, once for fill, your honor, make your mind aisy on that point.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be your own interest to prove faithful,” said his master. “Here + is a month's wages for you in advance.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy, having accepted the money, immediately proceeded to the next + hackney station, which was in the same street, where he took a coach by + the hour; and having got into it, ordered the driver to follow that which + he saw waiting at the door of the hotel aforesaid. + </p> + <p> + “Folly that hackney,” said he to the driver, “at what is called a + respectful distance, an' you'll be no loser by it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a piece of fun in the wind?” asked the driver, with a knowing + grin. + </p> + <p> + “When you go to your Padereens tonight,” replied Dandy, “that is, in case + you ever trouble them, you may swear it on them.” + </p> + <p> + “Whish! More power—I'm the boy will rowl you on.” + </p> + <p> + “There, they're off,” said Dandy; “but don't be in a hurry, for fraid we + might seem to folly them—only for your life and sowl, and as you + hope to get half-a-dozen gum-ticklers when we come come back—don't + let them out o' sight. By the rakes o' Mallow, this jaunt may be the + makin' o' you. Says his lordship to me, 'Dandy,' says he, 'find out where + she goes to, and you and every one that helps you to do so, is a made + man.'” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha!” exclaimed the driver, with glee, “is that it? Come, then—here's + at you—they're off.” + </p> + <p> + It was not yet five o'clock, and the stranger requested to be shown to a + bedroom, to which he immediately retired, in order to gain a few hours' + sleep, after the fatigue of his journey and the agitation which he had + Undergone. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, as Dandy followed Miss Gourlay, so shall we follow him. + The chase, we must admit, was conducted with singular judgment and + discretion, the second chaise jogging on—but that, in fact, is not + the term—we should rather say flogging on, inasmuch as that which + contained the fair fugitives went at a rate of most unusual speed. In this + manner they proceeded, until they reached a very pretty cottage, about + three quarters of a mile from the town of Wicklow, situated some fifty or + sixty yards in from the road side. Here they stopped; but Dandy desired + his man to drive slowly on. It was evident that this cottage was the + destination of the fugitives. Dandy, having turned a corner of the road, + desired the driver to stop and observe whether they entered or not; and + the latter having satisfied himself that they did— + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Dandy, “let us wait where we are till we see whether the + chaise returns or not; if it does, all's right, and I know what I know.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the empty chaise started once more for Dublin, followed, + as before, by the redoubtable Dulcimer, who entered the city a much more + important person than when he left it. Knowledge, as Bacon says, is power. + </p> + <p> + About two o'clock the stranger was dressed, had breakfasted, and having + ordered a car, proceeded to Constitution Hill. As he went up the street, + he observed the numbers of the houses as well as he could, for some had + numbers and some had not. Among the latter was that he sought for, and he + was consequently obliged to inquire. At length he found it, and saw by a + glance that it was one of those low lodging-houses to which country folks + of humble rank—chapmen, hawkers, pedlers, and others of a, similar + character—resort. It was evident, also, that the proprietor dealt in + huckstery, as he saw a shop in which there was bacon, meal, oats, eggs, + potatoes, bread, and such other articles as are usually to be found in + small establishments of the kind. He entered the shop, and found an old + man, certainly not less than seventy, but rather beyond it, sitting behind + the counter. The appearance of this man was anything but prepossessing. + His brows were low and heavy; his mouth close, and remarkably hard for his + years; the forehead low and narrow, and singularly deficient in what + phrenologists term the moral and intellectual qualities. But the worst + feature in the whole face might be read in his small, dark, cunning eyes, + which no man of any penetration could look upon without feeling that they + were significant of duplicity, cruelty, and fraud. His hair, though long, + and falling over his neck, was black as ebony; for although Time had left + his impress upon the general features of his face, it had not discolored a + single hair upon his head; whilst his whiskers, on the contrary, were like + snow—a circumstance which, in connection with his sinister look, + gave him a remarkable and startling appearance. His hands were coarse and + strong, and the joints of his thick fingers were noded either by age or + disease; but, at all events, affording indication of a rude and unfeeling + character. + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said the stranger, “is your name Denis Dunphy?” + </p> + <p> + The old man fastened his rat-like eyes upon him, compressed his hard, + unfeeling lips, and, after surveying him for some time, replied— + </p> + <p> + “What's your business, sir, with Denis Dunphy?” + </p> + <p> + “That, my friend, can be mentioned only to himself; are you the man?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what if I be?” + </p> + <p> + “But I must be certain that you are.” + </p> + <p> + There was another pause, and a second scrutiny, after which he replied, + </p> + <p> + “May be my name in Denis Dunphy.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no communication to make,” said the stranger, “that you may be + afraid of; but, such as it is, it can be made to no person but Denis + Dunphy himself. I have a letter for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who does it come from?” asked the cautious Denis Dunphy. + </p> + <p> + “From the parish priest of Ballytrain,” replied the other, “the Rev. + Father M'Mahon.” + </p> + <p> + The old man pulled out a large snuff-box, and took a long pinch, which he + crammed with his thumb first into one nostril, then into the other, + bending his head at the same! time to each side, in order to enjoy it with + greater relish, after which he gave a short deliberative cough or two. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “I am Denis Dunphy.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, then,” replied the other, “I should very much wish to have + a short private conversation with you of some importance. But you had + better first read the reverend gentleman's letter,” he added, “and perhaps + we shall then understand each other better;” and as he spoke he handed him + the letter. + </p> + <p> + The man received it, looked at it, and again took a more rapid and less + copious pinch, peered keenly at the stranger, and asked—“Pray, sir, + do you know the contents of this letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a syllable of it.” + </p> + <p> + He then coughed again, and having opened the document, began deliberately + to peruse it. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, who was disagreeably impressed by his whole manner and + appearance, made a point to watch the effect which the contents of the + document might have on him. The other, in the meantime, read on, and, as + he proceeded, it was obvious that the communication was not only one that + gave him no pleasure, but filled him with suspicion and alarm. After about + twenty minutes—for it took him at least that length of time to get + through it—he raised his head, and fastening his small, piercing + eyes upon the stranger, said: + </p> + <p> + “But how do I know that this letter comes from Father M'Mahon?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd have you to understand, sir,” replied the stranger, nearly losing his + temper, “that you are addressing a gentleman and a man of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith,” said the other, “I don't know whether I am or not. I have only + your word for it—and no man's willin' to give a bad character of + himself—but if you will keep the shop here for a minute or two, I'll + soon be able to tell whether it's Father M'Mahon'a hand-write or not.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he deliberately locked both tills of the counter—to wit, + those which contained the silver and coppers—then, surveying the + stranger with a look of suspicion—a look, by the way, that, after + having made his cash safe, had now something of the triumph and confidence + of security in it, he withdrew to a little backroom, that was divided from + the shop by a partition of boards and a glass door, to which there was a + red curtain. + </p> + <p> + “It is betther,” said the impudent old sinner, alluding to the cash in the + tills, “to greet over it than greet afther it—just keep the shop for + a couple of minutes, and then we'll undherstand one another, may be. + There's a great many skamers going in this world.” + </p> + <p> + Having entered the little room in question, he suddenly popped out his + head and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Could you weigh a stone or a half stone of praties, if they were called + for? But, never mind—you'd be apt to give down weight—I'll + come out and do it myself, if they're wanted;” saying which, he drew the + red curtain aside, in order the better, as it would seem, to keep a + watchful eye upon the other. + </p> + <p> + The latter was at first offended, but ultimately began to feel amused by + the offensive peculiarities of the old man. He now perceived that he was + eccentric and capricious, and that, in order to lure any information out + of him, it would be necessary to watch and take advantage of the + disagreeable whimsicalities which marked his character. Patience, he saw + clearly, was his only remedy. + </p> + <p> + After remaining in the back parlor for about eight or ten minutes, he put + out his thin, sharp face, with a grin upon it, which was intended for a + smile—the expression of which, however, was exceedingly + disagreeable. + </p> + <p> + “We will talk this matter over,” he said, “by and by. I have compared the + hand-write in this letther wid a certificate of Father M'Mahon's, that I + have for many years in my possession. Step inside in the meantime; the + ould woman will be back in a few minutes, and when she comes we'll go + upstairs and speak about it.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger complied with this invitation, and felt highly gratified that + matters seemed about to take a more favorable turn. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” said he, “you are satisfied that I am fully entitled to any + confidence you may feel disposed to place in me?” + </p> + <p> + “The priest speaks well of you,” replied Dunphy; “but then, sure I know + him; he's so kind-hearted a creature, that any one who speaks him fair, or + that he happens to take a fancy to, will be sure to get his good word. It + isn't much assistance I can give you, and it's not on account of his + letther altogether that I do it; but bekaise I think the time's come, or + rather soon will be come. Oh, here,” he said, “is the ould woman, and + she'll keep the shop. Now, sir, come upstairs, if you plaise, for what + we're goin' to talk about is what the very stones oughtn't to hear so long + as that man—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and instantly checked himself, as if he felt that he had + already gone too far. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” he proceeded, “what is it you expect from me? Name it at + wanst.” + </p> + <p> + “You are aware,” said the stranger, “that the son of the late Sir Edward + Gourlay, and the heir of his property, disappeared very mysteriously and + suspiciously—” + </p> + <p> + “And so did the son of the present man,” replied Dunphy, eying the + stranger keenly. + </p> + <p> + “It is not of him I am speaking,” replied the other; “although at the same + time I must say, that if I could find a trace even of him I would leave no + stone unturned to recover him.” + </p> + <p> + The old man looked into the floor, and mused for some time. + </p> + <p> + “It was a strange business,” he observed, “that both should go—you + may take my word, there has been mischief and revenge, or both, at the + bottom of the same business.” + </p> + <p> + “The worthy priest, whose letter I presented to you to-day, led me to + suppose, that if any man could put me in a capacity to throw light upon it + you could.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say, surely, that I could throw light upon it—did he?” + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not—but that if any man could, you are that man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” replied old Dunphy; “all bekaise he thinks I have a regard for + the Gourlays. That's what makes him suppose that I know anything about the + business; just as if I was in the saicrets of the family. I may have + suspicions like other people; but that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you throw out no hint, or give no clew, that might aid me in the + recovery of this unhappy young man, if he be alive?” + </p> + <p> + “You did well to add that, for who can tell whether he is or not?—maybe + it's only thrashing the water you are, after all.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger saw the old fellow had once more grown cautious, and avoided + giving a direct reply to him; but on considering the matter, he was, after + all, not much surprised at this. The subject involved a black and heinous + crime, and if it so happened that Dunphy could in any way have been + implicated in or connected with it, even indirectly, it would be almost + unreasonable to expect that he should now become his own accuser. Still + the stranger could observe that in spite of all his caution, there was a + mystery and uneasiness in his manner, when talking of it, which he could + not shake off. + </p> + <p> + When the conversation had reached this point, the old woman called her + husband down in a voice that seemed somewhat agitated, but not, as far as + he could guess, disagreeably. + </p> + <p> + “Denis, come down a minute,” she said, “come down, will you? here's a + stranger that you haven't seen for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “What stranger?” he inquired, peevishly. “Who is it? I wish you wouldn't + bother me—I'm talkin' with a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Ginty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ginty, is it?” said he, musing. “Well, that's odd, too—to think + that she should come at this very moment. Maybe, the hand of G—. I + beg your pardon, sir, for a minute or two—I'll be back immediately.” + </p> + <p> + He went down stairs, and found in the back parlor the woman named Ginty + Cooper, the same fortune-teller and prophetess whom we have already + described to the reader. + </p> + <p> + The old man seemed to consider her appearance not as an incident that + stirred up any natural affection in himself, but as one that he looked + upon as extraordinary. Indeed, to tell the truth, he experienced a + sensation of surprise, mingled with a superstitious feeling, that startled + him considerably, by her unexpected appearance at that particular period. + He did not resume his conversation with the stranger for at least twenty + minutes; but the latter was perfectly aware, from the earnestness of their + voices, although their words were not audible, that he and the new-comer + were discussing some topic in which they must have felt a very deep + interest. At length he came up and apologized for the delay, adding: “With + regard to this business, it's altogether out of my power to give you any + assistance. I have nothing but my suspicions, and it wouldn't be the part + of a Christian to lay a crime like that to any man's door upon mere + guess.” + </p> + <p> + “If you know anything of this dark transaction,” replied the stranger, + whose earnestness of manner was increased by his disappointment, as well + as by an impression that the old man knew more about it than he was + disposed to admit, “and will not enable us to render justice to the + wronged and defrauded orphan, you will have a heavy reckoning of it—an + awful one when you meet your God. By the usual course of nature that is a + reckoning that must soon be made. I advise you, therefore, not to tamper + with your own conscience, nor, by concealing your knowledge of this great + crime to peril your hopes of eternal happiness. Of one thing you may rest + assured, that the justice we seek will not stoop to those who have been + merely instruments in the hands of others.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very fine talk,” replied Dunphy, uneasily however, “and from + the high-flown language you give me, I take you to be a lawyer; but if you + were ten times a lawyer, and a judge to the back of that, a man can't tell + what he doesn't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Mark me,” replied the stranger, assailing him through his cupidity, “I + pledge you my solemn word that for any available information you may or + can give us you shall be most liberally and amply remunerated.” + </p> + <p> + “I have money enough,” replied Dunphy; “that is to say, as much as barely + does me, for the wealthiest of us cannot bring it to the grave. I'm + thankful to you, but I can give you no assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you suspect, then?—whom do you even suspect?” + </p> + <p> + “Hut!—why, the man that every one suspects—Sir Thomas + Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + “And upon what grounds, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, simply because no other man had any interest in getting the child + removed. Every one knows he's a dark, tyrannical, bad man, that wouldn't + be apt to scruple at anything. There now,” he added, “that is all I know + about it; and I suppose it's not more than you knew yourself before.” + </p> + <p> + In order to close the dialogue he stood up, and at once led the way down + to the back parlor, where the stranger, on following him, found Ginty + Cooper and the old woman in close conversation, which instantly ceased + when they made their appearance. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, chagrined and vexed at his want of success, was about to + depart, when Dunphy's wife said: + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, sir, you'd wish to get your fortune tould? bekaise, if you would, + here's a woman that will tell it to you, and you may depend upon it she'll + tell you nothing but the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in a humor for such nonsense, my good woman; I have much more + important matters to think of, I assure you; but I suppose the woman + wishes to have her hand crossed with silver; well, it shall be done. Here, + my good woman,” he said offering her money, “accept this, and spare your + prophecy.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not have your money, sir,” replied the prophetess; “and I say so + to let you know that I'm not an impostor. Be advised, and hear me—show + me your hand.” + </p> + <p> + The startling and almost supernatural appearance of the woman struck him + very forcibly, and with a kind of good-humored impatience, he stretched + out his hand to her. “Well,” said he, “I will test the truth of what you + promise.” + </p> + <p> + She took it into hers, and after examining the lines for a few seconds + said, “The lines in your hand, sir, are very legible—so much so that + I can read your name in it—and it's a name which very few in this + country know.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger started with astonishment, and was about to speak, but she + signed to him to be silent. + </p> + <p> + “You are in love,” she continued, “and your sweetheart loves you dearly. + You saw her this morning, and you would give a trifle to know where she + will be to-morrow. You traveled with her last night and didn't know it—and + the business that brought you to town will prosper.” + </p> + <p> + “You say you know my name,” replied the stranger, “if so, write it on a + slip of paper.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Will it do,” she asked, “if I give you the initials?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “the name in full—and I think you are fairly + caught.” + </p> + <p> + She gave no reply, but having got a slip of paper and a pen, went to the + wall and knocked three times, repeating some unintelligible words with an + appearance of great solemnity and mystery. Having knocked, she applied her + ear to the wall three times also, after which she seemed satisfied. + </p> + <p> + The stranger of course imputed all this to imposture; but when he + reflected upon what she had already told him, he felt perfectly confounded + with amazement. The prophetess then went to her father's counter and wrote + something upon a small fragment of paper, which she handed to him. No + earthly language could now express his astonishment, not from any belief + he entertained that she possessed supernatural power, but from the almost + incredible fact that she could have known so much of a man's affairs who + was an utter stranger to her, and to whom she was herself unknown. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is odd enough,” he added; “but this knocking on the wall and + listening was useless jugglery. Did you not say, when first you inspected + my hand, that you could read my name in the lines of it? then, of course + you knew it before you knocked at the wall—the knocking, therefore, + was imposture.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew the name,” she replied, “the moment I looked into your hand, but I + was obliged to ask permission to reveal it. Your observation, however, was + very natural. It may, in the meantime, be a consolation for you to know + that I'm not at liberty to mention it to any one but yourself and one + other person.” + </p> + <p> + “A man or woman?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman—she you saw this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether that be true or not,” observed the stranger, “the mention of my + name at present would place me in both difficulty and danger; so that I + hope you'll keep it secret.” + </p> + <p> + She threw the slip of paper into the fire. “There it lies,” she replied, + “and you might as well read it in those white ashes as extract it from me + until the proper time comes. But with respect to it, there is one thing I + must tell you before you go.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a name you will not carry long. Ask me no more questions. I have + already said you will succeed in the object of your pursuit, but not + without difficulty and danger. Take my advice, and never go anywhere + without a case of loaded pistols. I have good reasons for saying so. Now + pass on, for I am silent.” + </p> + <p> + There was an air of confidence and superiority about her as she uttered + these words—a sense, as it were, of power—of a privilege to + command, by which the stranger felt himself involuntarily influenced. He + once more offered her money, but, with a motion of her hand, she silently, + and somewhat indignantly refused it. + </p> + <p> + Whilst this singular exhibition took place, the stranger observed the very + remarkable and peculiar expression of the old man's countenance. It is + indeed very difficult to describe it. He seemed to experience a feeling of + satisfaction and triumph at the revelations the woman had made; added to + which was something that might be termed shrewd; ironical, and derisive. + In fact, his face bore no bad resemblance to that of Mephistopheles, as + represented in Retsch's powerful conception and delineation of it in his + illustration of Goethe's “Faust,” so inimitably translated by our + admirable countryman, Anster. + </p> + <p> + The stranger now looked at his watch, bade them good day, and took his + leave. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. Interview between Lady Gourlay and the Stranger + </h2> + <h3> + —Dandy Dulcimer makes a Discovery—The Stranger receives + Mysterious Communications. + </h3> + <p> + From Constitution Hill our friend drove directly to Merrion square, the + residence of Lady Gourlay, whom he found alone in the drawing-room. She + welcomed him with a courtesy that was expressive at once of anxiety, + sorrow, and hope. She extended her hand to him and said, after the usual + greetings were over: + </p> + <p> + “I fear to ask what the result of your journey has been—for I + cannot, alas! read any expression of success in your countenance.” + </p> + <p> + “As yet,” replied the stranger, “I have not been successful, madam; but I + do not despair. I am, and have been, acting under an impression, that we + shall ultimately succeed; and although I can hold out to your ladyship but + very slender hopes, if any, still I would say, do not despair.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Gourlay was about forty-eight, and although sorrow, and the bitter + calamity with which the reader is already acquainted, had left their + severe traces upon her constitution and features, still she was a woman on + whom no one could look without deep I interest and sympathy. Even at that + age, her fine form and extraordinary beauty bore up in a most surprising + manner against her sufferings. Her figure was tall—its proportions + admirable; and her beauty, faded it is true, still made the spectator + feel, with a kind of wonder, what it must have been when she was in the + prime of youth and untouched by affliction. She possessed that sober + elegance of manner that was in melancholy accordance with her fate; and + evinced in every movement a natural dignity that excited more than + ordinary respect and sympathy for her character and the sorrows she had + suffered. Her face was oval, and had been always of that healthy paleness + than which, when associated with symmetry and expression—as was the + case with her—there is nothing more lovely among women. Her eyes, + which were a dark brown, had lost, it is true, much of the lustre and + sparkle of early life; but this was succeeded by a mild and mellow light + to which an abiding sorrow had imparted an expression that was full of + melancholy beauty. + </p> + <p> + For many years past, indeed, ever since the disappearance of her only + child, she had led a secluded life, and devoted herself to the Christian + virtues of charity and benevolence; but in such a way as to avoid anything + like ostentatious display. Still, such is the structure of society, that + it is impossible to carry the virtues for which she was remarkable to any + practical extent, without the world by degrees becoming cognizant of the + secret. The very recipients themselves, in the fulness of their heart, + will commit a grateful breach of confidence with which it is impossible to + quarrel. + </p> + <p> + Consoled, as far as any consolation could reach her, by the consciousness + of doing good, as well as by a strong sense of religion, she led a life + which we regret so few in her social position are disposed to imitate. For + many years before the period at which our narrative commences, she had + given up all hope of ever recovering her child, if indeed he was alive. + Whether he had perished by an accidental death in some place where his + body could not be discovered—whether he had been murdered, or + kidnapped, were dreadful contingencies that wrung the mother's soul with + agony. But as habits of endurance give to the body stronger powers of + resistance, so does time by degrees strengthen the mind against the + influence of sorrow. A blameless life, therefore, varied only by its + unobtrusive charities, together with a firm trust in the goodness of God, + took much of the sting from affliction, but could not wholly eradicate it. + Had her child died in her arms—had she closed its innocent eyes with + her own hands, and given the mother's last kiss to those pale lips on + which the smile of affection was never more to sit—had she been able + to go, and, in the fulness of her childless heart, pour her sorrow over + his grave—she would have felt that his death, compared with the + darkness and uncertainty by which she was enveloped, would have been + comparatively a mitigated dispensation, for which the heart ought to feel + almost thankful. + </p> + <p> + The death of Corbet, her steward, found her in that mournful apathy under + which she had labored for year's. Indeed she resembled a certain class of + invalids who are afflicted with some secret ailment, which is not much + felt unless when an unexpected pressure, or sudden change of posture, + causes them to feel the pang which it inflicts. From the moment that the + words of the dying man shed the serenity of hope over her mind, and + revived in her heart all those tender aspirations of maternal affection + which, as associated with the recovery of her child, had nearly perished + out of it—from that moment, we say, the extreme bitterness of her + affliction had departed. + </p> + <p> + She had already suffered too much, however, to allow herself to be carried + beyond unreasonable bounds by sanguine and imprudent expectations. Her + rule of heart and of conduct was simple, but true—she trusted in God + and in the justice of his providence. + </p> + <p> + On hearing the stranger's want of success, she felt more affected by that + than by the faint consolation which he endeavored to hold out to her, and + a few bitter tears ran slowly down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Hope had altogether gone,” said she, “and with hope that power in the + heart to cherish the sorrow which it sustains; and the certainty of his + death had thrown me into that apathy, which qualifies but cannot destroy + the painful consequences of reflection. That which presses upon me now, is + the fear that although he may still live, as unquestionably Corbet on his + death-bed had assured me, yet it is possible we may never recover him. In + that case he is dead to me—lost forever.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not attempt to offer your ladyship consolation,” replied the + stranger; “but I would suggest simply, that the dying words of your + steward, perhaps, may be looked upon as the first opening—the dawn + of a hopeful issue. I think we may fairly and reasonably calculate that + your son lives. Take courage, madam. In our efforts to trace him, remember + that we have only commenced operations. Every day and every successive + attempt to penetrate this painful mystery will, I trust, furnish us with + additional materials for success.” + </p> + <p> + “May God grant it!” replied her ladyship; “for if we fail, my wounds will + have been again torn open in vain. Better a thousand times that that hope + had never reached me.” + </p> + <p> + “True, indeed, madam,” replied the stranger; “but still take what comfort + you can. Think of your brother-in-law; he also has lost his child, and + bears it well.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” she replied, “but you forget that he has one still left, and + that I am childless. If there be a solitary being on earth, it is a + childless and a widowed mother—a widow who has known a mother's love—a + wife who has experienced the tender and manly affection of a devoted + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant,” he replied, “that it is, indeed, a bitter fate.” + </p> + <p> + “As for my brother-in-law,” she proceeded, “the child which God, in his + love, has spared to him is a compensation almost for any loss. I trust he + loves and cherishes her as he ought, and as I am told she deserves. There + has been no communication between us ever since my marriage. Edward and + he, though brothers, were as different as day and night. Unless once or + twice, I never even saw my niece, and only then at a distance; nor has a + word ever passed between us. They tell me she is an angel in goodness, as + well as in beauty, and that her accomplishments are extraordinary—but—I, + alas!—am alone and childless.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger's heart palpitated; and had Lady Gourlay entertained any + suspicion of his attachment, she might have perceived his agitation. He + also felt deep sympathy with Lady Gourlay. + </p> + <p> + “Do not say childless, madam,” he replied. “Your ladyship must hope for + the best.” + </p> + <p> + “But what have you done?” she asked. “Did you see the young man?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him, madam; but it is impossible to get anything out of him. That + he is wrapped in some deep mystery is unquestionable. I got a letter, + however, from an amiable Roman Catholic clergyman, the parish priest of + Ballytrain, to a man named Dunphy, who lives in a street called + Constitution Hill, on the north side of the city.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a relation, I understand, of Edward Corbet, who died in my + service,” replied her ladyship, with an interest that seemed instantly to + awaken her. “Well,” said she, eagerly, “what was the result? Did you + present the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “I presented the letter, my lady; and had at first strong hopes—no, + not at first—but in the course of our conversation. He dropped + unconscious hints that induce me to suspect he knows more about the fate + of your son than he wishes to acknowledge. It struck me that he might have + been an agent in this black business, and, on that account, that he is + afraid to criminate himself. I have, besides,” he added, smilingly, “had + the gratification to have heard a prophecy uttered, by which I was assured + of ultimate success in my efforts to trace out your son;—a prophecy + uttered under and accompanied by circumstances so extraordinary and + incomprehensible as to confound and amaze me.” + </p> + <p> + He then detailed to her the conversation he had had with old Dunphy and + the fortune-teller, suppressing all allusion to what tha latter had said + concerning Lucy and himself. After which, Lady Gourlay paused for some + time, and seemed at a loss what construction to put upon it. + </p> + <p> + “It is very strange,” she at length observed; “that woman has been here, I + think, several times, visiting her late brother, who left her some money + at his death. Is she not extremely pale and wild-looking?” + </p> + <p> + “So much so, madam, that there is something awful and almost + supernatural-looking in the expression of her eyes and features. I have + certainly never seen such a face before on a denizen of this life.” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange,” replied her ladyship, “that she should have taken upon + her the odious character of a fortune-teller. I was not aware of that. + Corbet, I know, had a sister, who was deranged for some time; perhaps this + is she, and that the gift of fortune-telling to which she pretends may be + a monomania or some other delusion that her unhappy malady has left behind + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely, my lady,” replied the other; “nothing more probable. The + fact you mention accounts both for her strange appearance and conduct. + Still I must say, that so far as I had an opportunity of observing, there + did not appear to be any obvious trace of insanity about her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she exclaimed, “we know to foretell future events is not now one + of the privileges accorded to mortals. I will place my assurance in the + justice of God's goodness and providence, and not in the delusions of a + poor maniac, or, perhaps, of an impostor. What course do you propose + taking now?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not yet determined, madam. I think I will see this old Dunphy + again. He told me that he certainly suspected your brother-in-law, but + assured me that he had no specific grounds for his suspicions—beyond + the simple fact, that Sir Thomas would be the principal gainer by the + child's removal. At all events, I shall see him once more to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “What stay will you make in town?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot at the present moment say, my lady. I have other matters, of + which your ladyship is aware, to look after. My own rights must be + vindicated; and I dare say you will not regret to hear that everything is + in a proper train. We want only one link of the chain. An important + document is wanting; but I think it will soon be in our hands. Who knows,” + he added, smiling, “but your ladyship and I may ere long be able to + congratulate each other upon our mutual success? And now, madam, permit me + to take my leave. I am not without hope on your account; but of this you + may rest assured, that my most strenuous exertions shall be devoted to the + object nearest your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas,” she replied, as she stood up, “it is neither title nor wealth that + I covet. Give me my child—restore me my child—and I shall be + happy. That is the simple ambition of his mother's heart. I wish Sir + Thomas to understand that I shall allow him to enjoy both title and + estates during his life, if, knowing where my child is, he will restore + him to my heart. I will bind, myself by the most solemn forms and + engagements to this. Perhaps that might satisfy him.” + </p> + <p> + They then shook hands and separated, the stranger involuntarily influenced + by the confident predictions of Ginty Cooper, although he was really + afraid to say so; whilst Lady Gourlay felt her heart at one time elevated + by the dawn of hope that had arisen, and again depressed by the darkness + which hung over the fate of her son. + </p> + <p> + His next visit was to his attorney, Birney, who had been a day or two in + town, and whom he found in his office in Gloucester street. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Birney,” he inquired, “what advance are you making?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied Birney, “the state of our case is this: if Mrs. Norton + could be traced we might manage without the documents you have lost;—by + the way, have you any notion where the scoundrel might be whom you suspect + of having taken them?” + </p> + <p> + “What! M'Bride? I was told, as I mentioned before, that he and the + Frenchwoman went to America, leaving his unfortunate wife behind him. I + could easily forgive the rascal for the money he took; but the misfortune + was, that the documents and the money were both in the same pocket-book. + He knew their value, however, for unfortunately he was fully in my + confidence. The fellow was insane about the girl, and I think it was love + more than dishonesty that tempted him to the act. I have little doubt that + he would return me the papers if he knew where to send them.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any notion where the wife is?” + </p> + <p> + “None in the world, unless that she is somewhere in this country, having + set out for it a fortnight before I left Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “As the matter stands, then,” replied Birney, “we shall be obliged, to go + to France in order to get a fresh copy of the death and the marriage + properly attested—or, I should rather say, of the marriage and the + death. This will complete our documentary evidence; but, unfortunately, + Mrs. Norton, who was her maid at the time, and a witness of both the death + and marriage, cannot be found, although she was seen in Dublin about three + months ago. I have advertised several times for her in the papers, but to + no purpose. I cannot find her whereabouts at all. I fear, however, and so + does the Attorney-General, that we shall not be able to accomplish our + purpose without her.” + </p> + <p> + “That is unfortunate,” replied the stranger. “Let us continue the + advertisements; perhaps she may turn up yet. As to the other pursuit, + touching the lost child, I know not what to say. There are but slight + grounds for hope, and yet I am not at all disposed to despair, although I + cannot tell why.” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be possible,” observed Bimey, “that that wicked old baronet + could ultimately prosper in his villainy. I speak, of course, upon the + supposition that he is, or was, the bottom of the business. Your, safest + and best plan is to find out his agents in the business, if it can be + done.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall leave nothing unattempted,” replied the other; “and if we fail, + we shall at least have the satisfaction of having done our duty. The lapse + of time, however, is against us;—perhaps the agents are dead.” + </p> + <p> + “If this man is guilty,” said the attorney, “he is nothing more nor less + than a modern Macbeth. However, go on, and keep up your resolution; effort + will do much. I hope in this case—in both cases—it will do + all.” + </p> + <p> + After some further conversation upon the matter in question, which it is + not our intention to detail here, the stranger made an excursion to the + country, and returned about six o'clock to his hotel. Here he found Dandy + Dulcimer before him, evidently brimful of some important information on + which he (Dandy) seemed to place a high value, and which gave to his + naturally droll countenance such an expression of mock gravity as was + ludicrous in the extreme. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, sir?” asked his master; “you look very big and + important just now. I hope you have not been drinking.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy compressed his lips as if his master's fate depended upon his words, + and pointing with his forefinger in the direction of Wicklow, replied: + </p> + <p> + “The deed is done, sir—the deed is done.” + </p> + <p> + “What deed, sirra?” + </p> + <p> + “Weren't you tould the stuff that was in me?” he replied. “But God has + gifted me, and sure that's one comfort, glory be to his name. Weren't—” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, sir!” said his master, authoritatively. “What do you + mean by the deed is done?' You haven't got married, I hope. Perhaps the + cousin you went to see was your sweetheart?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I haven't got married. God keep me a little while longer from + sich a calamity? But I have put you in the way of being so.” + </p> + <p> + “How, sirra—put me into a state of calamity? Do you call that a + service?” + </p> + <p> + “A state of repentance, sir, they say, is a state of grace; an' when one's + in a state of grace they can make their soul; and anything, you know, that + enables one to make his soul, is surely for his good.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, say 'God forbid,' when I suppose you had yourself got + married?” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise I'm a sinner, sir,—a good deal hardened or so,—and + haven't the grace even to wish for such a state of grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what deed is this you have done? and no more of your + gesticulations.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you undherstand, sir!” he replied, extending the digit once more in + the same direction, and with the same comic significance. + </p> + <p> + “She's safe, sir. Miss Gourlay—I have her.” + </p> + <p> + “How, you impudent scoundrel, what kind of language is this to apply to + Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, an' I have her safe,” replied the pertinacious Dandy. “Safe as a + hare in her form; but it is for your honor I have her. Cousin! oh, the + divil a cousin has Dandy widin the four walls of Dublin town; but well + becomes me, I took a post-chaise, no less, and followed her hot foot—never + lost sight of her, even while you'd wink, till I seen her housed.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, sirra.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, sir, all the explanation I have to give you've got, barrin' where + she lives.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger instantly thought of Lucy's caution, and for the present + determined not to embarrass himself with a knowledge of her residence; + “lest,” as she said, “her father might demand from him whether he was + aware of it.” In that case he felt fully the truth and justness of her + injunctions. Should Sir Thomas put the question to him he could not betray + her, nor could he, on the other hand, stain his conscience by a deliberate + falsehood; for, in truth, he was the soul of honor itself. + </p> + <p> + “Harkee, Dandy,” said he, not in the slightest degree displeased with him, + although he affected to be so, “if you wish to remain in my service keep + the secret of Miss Gourlay's residence—a secret not only from me, + but from every human being that lives. You have taken a most unwarrantable + and impudent liberty in following her as you did. You know not, sirra, how + you may have implicated both her and me by such conduct, especially the + young lady. You are known to be in my service; although, for certain + reasons, I do not intend, for the present at least, to put you into + livery; and you ought to know, sir, also, that it will be taken for + granted that you acted by my orders. Now, sir, keep that secret to + yourself, and let it not pass your lips until I may think proper to ask + you for it.” + </p> + <p> + One evening, on the second day after this, he reached his hotel at six + o'clock, and was about to enter, when a young lad, dancing up to him, + asked in a whisper if that was for him, at the same time presenting a + note. The other, looking at it, saw that it was addressed to him only by + his initials. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is, my boy,” said he; “from whom did it come, do you know?” + </p> + <p> + The lad, instead of giving him any reply, took instantly to his heels, as + if he had been pursued for life and death, without even waiting to solicit + the gratuity which is usually expected on such occasions. Our friend took + it for granted that it had come from the fortune-teller, Ginty Cooper; but + on opening it he perceived at a glance that he must have been mistaken, as + the writing most certainty was not that of this extraordinary sibyl. The + hand in which she had written his name was precisely such as one would + expect from such a woman—rude and vulgar —whereas, on the + contrary, that in the note was elegant and lady-like. The contents were as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—On receipt of this you will, if you wish to prosper in that + which you have undertaken to accomplish, hasten to Ballytrain, and secure + the person of a young man named Fenton, who lives in or about the town. + You will claim him as the lawful heir of the title and property of Red + Hall, for such in fact he is. Go then to Sir Thomas Gourlay, and ask him + the following questions: + </p> + <p> + “1st. Did he not one night, about sixteen years ago, engage a man who was + so ingeniously masked that the child neither perceived the mask, nor knew + the man's person, to lure, him from Red Hall, under the pretence of + bringing him to see a puppet show? + </p> + <p> + “2d. Did not Sir Thomas give instructions to this man to take him out of + his path, out of his sight, and out of his hearing? + </p> + <p> + “3d. Was not this man well rewarded by Sir Thomas for that act? + </p> + <p> + “There are other questions in connection with the affair that could he + put, but at present they would be unseasonable. The curtain of this dark + drama is beginning to rise; truth will, ere long, be vindicated, justice + rendered to the defrauded orphan, and guilt punished. + </p> + <p> + “A Lover of Justice.” + </p> + <p> + It is very difficult to describe the feelings with which the stranger + perused this welcome but mysterious document. To him, it was one of great + pleasure, and also of exceedingly great pain. Here was something like a + clew, to the discovery which he was so deeply interested in making. But, + then, at whose expense was this discovery to be made? He was betrothed to + Lucy Gourlay, and here he was compelled by a sense of justice to drag her + father forth to public exposure, as a criminal of the deepest dye. What + would Lucy say to this? What would she say to the man who should entail + the heavy ignominy with which a discovery of this atrocious crime must + blacken her father's name. He knew the high and proud principles by which + she was actuated, and he knew how deeply the disgrace of a guilty parent + would affect her sensitive spirit. Yet what was he to do? Was the iniquity + of this ambitious and bad man to deprive the virtuous and benevolent woman—the + friend of the poor and destitute, the loving mother, the affectionate wife + who had enshrined her departed husband in the sorrowful recesses of her + pure and virtuous heart, was this coldblooded and cruel tyrant to work out + his diabolical purposes without any effort being made to check him in his + career of guilt, or to justify her pious trust in that God to whom she + looked for protection and justice? No, he knew Lucy too well; he knew that + her extraordinary sense of truth and honor would justify him in the steps + he might be forced to take, and that whatever might be the result, he at + least was the last man whom she could blame for rendering justice to the + widow of her father's brother. But, then again, what reliance could be + placed upon anonymous information—information which, after all, was + but limited and obscure? Yet it was evident that the writer—a female + beyond question—whoever she was, must be perfectly conversant with + his motives and his objects. And if in volunteering him directions how to + proceed, she had any purpose adversative to his, her note was without + meaning. Besides, she only reawakened the suspicion which he himself had + entertained with respect to Fenton. At all events, to act upon the hints + contained in the note, might lead to something capable of breaking the + hitherto impenetrable cloud under which this melancholy transaction lay; + and if it failed to do this, he (the stranger) could not possibly stand + worse in the estimation of Sir Thomas Gourlay than he did already. In + God's name, then, he would make the experiment; and in order to avoid + mail-coach adventures in future, he would post it back to Ballytrain as + quietly, and with as little observation as possible. + </p> + <p> + He accordingly ordered Dandy to make such slight preparations as were + necessary for their return to that town, and in the meantime he determined + to pay another visit to old Dunphy of Constitution Hill. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at the huckster's, he found him in the backroom, or parlor, to + which we have before alluded. The old man's manner was, he thought, + considerably changed for the better. He received him with more + complacency, and seemed as if he felt something like regret for the + harshness of his manner toward him during his first visit. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said he, “is it fair to ask you, how you have got on in + ferritin' out this black business?” + </p> + <p> + There are some words so completely low and offensive in their own nature, + that no matter how kind and honest the intention of the speaker may be, + they are certain to vex and annoy those to whom they are applied. + </p> + <p> + “Ferreting out!” thought the stranger—“what does the old scoundrel + mean?” Yet, on second consideration, he could not for the soul of him + avoid admitting that, considering the nature of the task he was engaged + in, it was by no means an inappropriate illustration. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, “we have made no progress, but we still trust that you will + enable us to advance a step. I have already told you that we only wish to + come at the principals. Their mere instruments we overlook. You seem to be + a poor man—but listen to me—if you can give us any assistance + in this affair, you shall be an independent one during the remainder of + your life. Provided murder has not been committed I guarantee perfect + safety to any person who may have only acted under the orders of a + superior.” + </p> + <p> + “Take your time,” replied the old man, with a peculiar expression. “Did + you ever see a river?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” replied the other; “why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, could you, or any livin' man, make the strame of that river + flow faster than its natural course?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” replied the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—I'm an ould man and be advised by me—don't attempt + to hurry the course o' the river. Take things as they come. If there's a + man on this earth that's a livin' divil in flesh and blood, it's Sir + Thomas Gourlay, the Black Barrownight; and if there's a man livin' that + would go half way into hell to punish him, I'm that man. Now, sir, you + said, the last day you were here, that you were a gentleman and a man of + honor, and I believe you. So these words that have spoken to you about him + you will never mention them—you promise that?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can, and do. To what purpose should I mention them?” + </p> + <p> + “For your own sake, or, I should say, for the sake of the cause you are + engaged in, don't do it.” + </p> + <p> + The bitterness of expression which darkened the old man's features, while + he spoke of the Baronet, was perfectly diabolical, and threw him back from + the good opinion which the stranger was about to form of him, + notwithstanding his conduct on the previous day's visit. + </p> + <p> + “You don't appear to like Sir Thomas,” he said. “He is certainly no + favorite of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Like him,” replied the old man, bitterly. “He is supposed to be the best + friend I have; but little you know the punishment he will get in his + heart, sowl, and spirit—little you know what he will be made to + suffer yet. Of course now you undherstand, that if I could help you, as + you say, to advance a single step in finding the right heir of this + property I would do it. As matthers stand now, however, I can do nothing—but + I'll tell you what I will do—I'll be on the lookout—I'll ask, + seek, and inquire from them that have been about him at the time of the + child's disappearance, and if I can get a single particle worth mentionin' + to you, you shall have it, if I could only know where a letther would find + you.” + </p> + <p> + The cunning, the sagacity, the indefinable twinkle that scintillated from + the small, piercing eyes, were too obvious to be overlooked. The stranger + instantly felt himself placed, as it were, upon his guard, and he replied, + </p> + <p> + “It is possible that I may not be in town, and my address is uncertain; + but the moment you are in a capacity to communicate any information that + may be useful, go to the proper quarter—to Lady Gourlay herself. I + understand that a relation of yours lived and died in her service?” + </p> + <p> + “That's true,” said the man, “and a betther mistress never did God put + breath in, nor a betther masther than Sir Edward. Well, I will follow your + advice, but as for Sir Thomas—no matther, the time's comin'—the + river's flowin—and if there's a God in heaven, he will be punished + for all his misdeeds—for other things as well as takin' away the + child—that is, if he has taken him away. Now, sir, that's all I can + say to you at present—for I know nothing about this business. Who + can tell, however, but I may ferret out something? It won't be my heart, + at any rate, that will hinder me.” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing further now to detain the stranger in town. He + accordingly posted it at a rapid rate to Ballytrain, accompanied by Dandy + and his dulcimer, who, except during the evenings among the servants in + the hotel, had very little opportunity of creating a sensation, as he + thought he would have done as an amateur musician in the metropolis. + </p> + <p> + “Musha, you're welcome back, sir,” said Pat Sharpe, on seeing the stranger + enter the Mitre; “troth, we were longin' for you, sir. And where is + herself, your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you mean, Pat?” said the stranger, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Pat pointed with his thumb over his shoulder toward Red Hall. “Ah!” he + exclaimed, with a laugh, “by my soul I knew you'd manage it well. And + troth, I'll drink long life an' happiness an' a sweet honeymoon to yez + both, this very night, till the eyes stand in my head. Ah, thin, but she + is the darlin', God bless her!” + </p> + <p> + If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, the stranger could not have felt + more astonishment; but that is not the word—sorrow—agony—indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Gracious heaven!” he exclaimed, “what is this? what villanous calumny has + gone abroad?” + </p> + <p> + Here Dandy saw clearly that his master was in distress, and generously + resolved to step in to his assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Paudeen,” said he, “you know nothing about this business, my hurler. + You're a day before the fair. They're not married yet—but it's as + good—so hould your prate about it till the knot's tied—then + trumpet it through the town if you like.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger felt that to enter into an altercation with two such persons + would be perfect madness, and only make what now appeared to be already + too bad, much worse. He therefore said, very calmly, + </p> + <p> + “Pat, I assure you, that my journey to Dublin had nothing whatsoever to do + with Miss Gourlay's. The whole matter was accidental. I know nothing about + her; and if any unfortunate reports have gone abroad they are unfounded, + and do equal injustice to that lady and to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a thing else, now, Paudeen,” said Dandy, with a face full of most + villanous mystery—that had runaway and elopement in every line of it—and + a tone of voice that would have shamed a couple-beggar—“bad scran to + the ha'p'orth happened. So don't be puttin' bad constructions on things + too soon. However, there's a good time comin', plaise God—so now, + Paudeen, behave yourself, can't you, and don't be vexin' the masther.” + </p> + <p> + “Pat,” said the stranger, feeling that the best way to put an end to this + most painful conversation was to start a fresh topic, “will you send for + Fenton, and say I wish to see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Fenton, sir!—why, poor Mr. Fenton has been missed out of the town + and neighborhood ever since the night you and Miss Gour—I beg pardon—” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul, Paudeen,” said Dandy, “I'll knock you down if you say that + agin now, afther what the masther an' I said to you. Hang it, can't you + have discretion, and keep your tongue widin your teeth, on this business + at any rate?” + </p> + <p> + “Is not Fenton in town?” asked the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; he has neither been seen nor heard of since that night, and the + people's beginin' to wonder what has become of him.” + </p> + <p> + Here was a disappointment; just at the moment when he had determined, by + seizing upon Fenton, with a view to claim him as the son of the late Sir + Edward Gourlay, and the legitimate heir of Red Hall, in order, if it were + legally possible, to bring about an investigation into the justice of + those claims, it turned out that, as if in anticipation of his designs, + the young man either voluntarily disappeared, or else was spirited + forcibly away. How to act now he felt himself completely at a loss, but as + two heads he knew were better than one, he resolved to see Father M'Mahon, + and ask his opinion and advice upon this strange and mysterious + occurrence. In the mean time, while he is on the way to visit that amiable + and benevolent priest, we shall so far gratify the reader as to throw some + light upon the unaccountable disappearance of the unfortunate Fenton. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. Conception and Perpetration of a Diabolical Plot against + Fenton. + </h2> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay was a man prompt and inexorable in following up his + resolutions. On the night of Lucy's flight from Red Hall, he had concocted + a plan which it was not his intention to put in execution for a day or + two, as he had by no means made up his mind in what manner to proceed with + it. On turning over the matter, however, a second time in his thoughts, + and comparing the information which he had received from Crackenfudge + respecting the stranger, and the allusion to the toothpick manufacturer, + he felt morally certain that Fenton was his brother's son, and that by + some means or other unknown to him he had escaped from the asylum in which + he had been placed, and by some unaccountable fatality located himself in + the town of Ballytrain, which, in fact, was a portion of his inheritance. + </p> + <p> + “I am wrong,” thought he, “in deferring this project. There is not a + moment to be lost. Some chance incident, some early recollection, even a + sight of myself—for he saw me once or twice, to his cost—may + awaken feelings which, by some unlucky association, might lead to a + discovery. Curse on the cowardly scoundrel, Corbet, that did not take my + hint, and put him at once and forever out of my path, sight, and hearing. + But he had scruples, forsooth; and here now is the serpent unconsciously + crossing my path. This is the third time he has escaped and broken out of + bounds. Upon the two former I managed him myself, without a single + witness; and, but that I had lost my own child—and there is a + mystery I cannot penetrate—I would have—” + </p> + <p> + Here he rang the bell, and a servant entered. + </p> + <p> + “Send up Gillespie.” + </p> + <p> + The servant, as usual, bowed, and Gillespie entered. + </p> + <p> + “Gillespie, there is a young fellow in Ballytrain, named—Fenton, I + think?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your honor; he is half-mad, or whole mad, as a good many people + think.” + </p> + <p> + “I am told he is fond of liquor.” + </p> + <p> + “He is seldom sober, Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you go into Ballytrain, and try to see him? But first see the + butler, and desire him, by my orders, to give you a bottle of whiskey. I + don't mean this moment, sirra,” he said, for Gillespie was proceeding to + take him instantly at his word. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, sir. See Fenton—lure him as quietly and secretly as you can + out of town—bring him into some remote nook—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas, I beg your pardon,” exclaimed Gillespie, getting pale; “if + you mean that I should—” + </p> + <p> + “Silence, sir,” replied the baronet, in his sternest and deepest voice; + “hear me; bring him, if you can, to some quiet place, where you will both + be free from observation; then produce your bottle and glass, and ply him + with liquor until you have him drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “It's very likely that I'll find him drunk as it is, sir; he is seldom + otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better; you will have the less trouble. Well, when you have + him sufficiently drunk, bring him to the back gate of the garden, which + you will find unlocked; lodge him in the tool-house, ply him with more + liquor, until he becomes helpless. In the meantime, lock the back gate + after you—here is the key, which you can keep in your pocket. Having + left him in the tool-house—in a sufficiently helpless state, mark—lock + him in, put that key in your pocket, also; then get my travelling carriage + ready, put to the horses, and when all this is done, come to me here; I + shall then instruct you how and where to proceed. I shall also accompany + you myself to the town of ———, after which you shall + take a post-chaise, and proceed with this person to the place of his + destination. Let none of the servants see you; and remember we are not to + start from the garden gate until about twelve o'clock, or later.” + </p> + <p> + Gillespie promised compliance, and, in fact, undertook the business with + the greater alacrity, on hearing that there was to be a bottle of whiskey + in the case. As he was leaving the room, however, Sir Thomas called him + back, and said, with a frown which nobody could misunderstand, “Harkee, + Gillespie, keep yourself strictly sober, and—oh yes, I had nearly + forgotten it—try if there is a hard scar, as if left by a wound, + under his chin, to the left side; and if you find none, have nothing to do + with him. You understand, now, all I require of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, your honor. But I may not be able to find this Fenton.” + </p> + <p> + “That won't be your own fault, you must only try another time, when you + may have better success. Observe, however, that if there is no scar under + the left side of his chin, you are to let him pass—he is not the + person in whom I feel interested, and whom I am determined to serve, if I + can—even against his wishes. He is, I believe, the son of an old + friend, and I will endeavor to have him restored to the perfect use of his + reason, if human skill can effect it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's very kind of you, Sir Thomas, and very few would do it,” replied + Gillespie, as he left the apartment, to fulfil his execrable mission. + </p> + <p> + Gillespie having put the bottle of strong spirits into his pocket, wrapped + a great coat about him, and, by a subsequent hint from Sir Thomas, tied a + large handkerchief across his face, in order the better to conceal his + features, and set out on his way to Ballytrain. + </p> + <p> + It may be remarked with truth, that the projects of crime are frequently + aided by those melancholy but felicitous contingencies, which, though + unexpected and unlooked for, are calculated to enable the criminal to + effect his wicked purposes with more facility and less risk. Gillespie, on + the occasion in question, not only met Fenton within a short distance of + the town, and in a lonely place, but also found him far advanced in a + state of intoxication. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Mr. Fenton?” said he. “How do you do, Mr. Fenton? A beautiful + night, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied the unfortunate young man; “it is Mr. Fenton, and you + are a gentleman. Some folks now take the liberty of calling me Fenton, + which is not only impudently familiar and ridiculous, but a proof that + they do not know how to address a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “You are leaving the town, it seems, Mr. Fenton?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there's a wake down in Killyfaddy, where there will be a + superfluity, sir, of fun; and I like to see fun and sorrow associated. + They harmonize, my friend—they concatenate.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fenton,” proceeded Gillespie, “you are a young gentleman—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, that's the term. I am a gentleman. What can I do for you? I + have rare interest among the great and powerful.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't at all doubt it,” replied Gillespie; “but I was go in' to say, + sir, that you are a young gentleman that I have always respected very + highly.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my friend, thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “If it wouldn't be takin' a liberty, I'd ask a favor of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you are a gentleman, and it should be granted. Name it.” + </p> + <p> + “The night, sir, although a fine enough night, is a little sharp, for all + that. Now, I happen to have a sup of as good liquor in my pocket as ever + went down the red lane, and if we could only get a quiet sheltering spot, + behind one of these ditches, we could try its pulse between us.” + </p> + <p> + “The project is good and hospitable,” replied poor Fenton, “and has my + full concurrence.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, sir,” said the other, “will you be so good as to come along + with me, and we'll make out some snug spot where I'll have the pleasure of + drinkin' your honor's health.” + </p> + <p> + “Good again,” replied the unlucky dupe; “upon my soul you're an excellent + fellow; Proceed, I attend you. The liquor's good, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Betther was never drank, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir, I believe you. We shall soon, however, put the truth of + that magnificent assertion to the test; and besides, sir, it will be an + honor for you to share your bottle with a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes they reached a quiet little dell, by which there led a + private pathway, open only to the inmates of Red Hall when passing to or + from the town, and which formed an agreeable and easy shortcut when any + hurried message was necessary. This path came out upon an old road which + ran behind the garden, and joined the larger thoroughfare, about a quarter + of a mile beyond it. + </p> + <p> + In a sheltered little cul de sac, between two white-thorn hedges, they + took their seats; and Gillespie having pulled out his bottle and glass, + began to ply the luckless young man with the strong liquor. And an easy + task he found it; for Fenton resembled thousands, who, when the bounds of + moderation are once passed, know not when to restrain themselves. It would + be both painful and disagreeable to dwell upon the hellish iniquity of + this merciless and moral murder; it is enough to say that, having reduced + the young man to the precise condition which was necessary for his + purpose, this slavish and unprincipled ruffian, as Delahunt did with his + innocent victim, deliberately put his hand to his throat, or, rather, to + the left side of his neck, and there found beyond all doubt a large welt, + or cicatrice, precisely as had been described by Sir Thomas. After the + space of about two hours—for Gillespie was anxious to prolong the + time as much as possible—he assisted Fenton, now unable to walk + without support, and completely paralyzed in his organs of speech, along + the short and solitary path to the back gate of the garden.. He opened it, + dragged Fenton in like a dog whom he was about to hang, but still the + latter seemed disposed to make some unconscious and instinctive + resistance. It was to no purpose, however. The poor young man was + incapable of resistance, either by word or deed. In a short time they + reached the tool-house, where he threw Fenton on a heap of apples, like a + bag, and left him to lie in cold and darkness, as if he were some noxious + animal, whom it would be dangerous to set at large. He then locked the + door, put the key in his pocket, and went to acquaint the baronet with the + success of his mission. + </p> + <p> + The latter, on understanding from Gillespie that Fenton was not only + secured, but that his suspicions as to his identity were correct, desired + him to have the carriage ready in the course of about an hour. He had + already written a letter, containing a liberal enclosure, to the person + into whose merciless hands he was about to commit him. In the meantime, it + is impossible to describe the confused character of his feelings—the + tempest, the tornado of passions, that swept through his dark and + ambitious spirit. + </p> + <p> + “This is the third time,” he thought to himself, as he paced the room in + such a state of stormy agitation as reacted upon himself, and tilled him + with temporary alarm. His heart beat powerfully, his pulsations were + strong and rapid, and his brain felt burning and tumultuous. Occasional + giddiness also seized him, accompanied by weakness about the knee-joints, + and hoarseness in the throat. In fact, once or twice he felt as if he were + about to fall. In this state he hastily gulped down two or three large + glasses of Madeira, which was his favorite wine, and he felt his system + more intensely strung. + </p> + <p> + “That woman,” said he, alluding to Lady Gourlay, “has taken her revenge by + destroying my son. There can be no doubt of that. And what now prevents me + from crushing this viper forever? If my daughter were not with me, it + should be done; yes, I would do it silently and secretly, ay, and surely, + with my own hand. I would have blood for blood. What, however, if the mur—if + the act came to light! Then I must suffer; my daughter is involved in my + infamy, and all my dreams for her aggrandizement come to worse than + nothing. But I know not how it is, I fear that girl. Her moral ascendency, + as they call it, is so dreadful to me, that I often feel as if I hated + her. What right has she to subjugate a spirit like mine, by the influence + of her sense of honor and her virtuous principles? or to school me to my + face by her example? I am not a man disposed to brook inferiority, yet she + sometimes makes me feel as if I were a monster. However, she is a fool, + and talks of happiness as if it were anything but a chimera or a dream. Is + she herself happy? I would be glad to see the mortal that is. Do her + virtues make her happy? No. Then where is the use of this boasted virtue, + if it will not procure that happiness after which all are so eager in + pursuit, but which none has ever yet attained? Was Christ, who is said to + have been spotless, happy? No; he was a man of sorrows. Away, then, with + this cant of virtue. It is a shadow, a deception; a thing, like religion, + that has no existence, but takes our senses, our interests, and our + passions, and works with them under its own mask. Yet why am I afraid of + my daughter? and why do I, in my heart, reverence her as a being so far + superior to myself? Why is it that I could murder—ay, murder—this + worthless object that thrust himself, or would thrust himself, or might + thrust himself, between me and the hereditary honors of my name, were it + not that her very presence, if I did it, would, I feel, overpower and + paralyze me with a sense of my guilt? Yet I struck her—I struck her; + but her spirit trampled mine in the dust—she humiliated me. Away! I + am not like other men. Yet for her sake this miserable wretch shall live. + I will not imbrue my hands in his blood, but shall place him where he will + never cross me more. It is one satisfaction to me, and security besides, + that he knows neither his real name nor lineage; and now he shall enter + this establishment under a new one. As for Lucy, she shall be Countess of + Cullamore, if she or I should die for it.” + </p> + <p> + He then swallowed another glass of wine, and was about to proceed to the + stables, when a gentle tap came to the door, and Gillespie presented + himself. + </p> + <p> + “All's ready, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Gillespie. I shall go with you to see that all is right, In + the course of a few minutes will you bring the carriage round to the back + gate? The horses are steady, and will remain there while we conduct him + down to it. Have you a dark lantern?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + Both then proceeded toward the stables. The baronet perceived that + everything was correct; and having seen Gillespie, who was his coachman, + mount the seat, he got into the carriage, and got out again at the door of + the tool-house, where poor Fenton lay. After unlocking the door, for he + had got the key from Gillespie, he entered, and cautiously turning the + light of the lantern in the proper direction, discovered his unhappy + victim, stretched cold and apparently lifeless. + </p> + <p> + Alas, what a melancholy picture lay before him! Stretched upon some apples + that were scattered over the floor, he found the unhappy young man in a + sleep that for the moment resembled the slumber of the dead. His hat had + fallen off, and on his pale and emaciated temples seemed indeed to dwell + the sharp impress of approaching death. It appeared, nevertheless, that + his rest had not been by any means unbroken, nor so placid as it then + appeared to be; for the baronet could observe that he must have been + weeping in his sleep, as his eyelids were surcharged with tears that had + not yet had time to dry. The veins in his temples were blue, and as fine + as silk; and over his whole countenance was spread an expression of such + hopeless sorrow and misery as was sufficient to soften the hardest heart + that ever beat in human bosom. One touch of nature came over even that of + the baronet. “No,” said he, “I could not take his life. The family + likeness is obvious, and the resemblance to his cousin Lucy is too strong + to permit me to shed his blood; but I will secure him so that he shall + never cross my path again. He will not, however, cross it long,” he added + to himself, after another pause, “for the stamp of death is upon his + face.” + </p> + <p> + Gillespie now entered, and seizing Fenton, dragged him up upon his legs, + the baronet in the meantime turning the light of |the lantern aside. The + poor fellow, being properly neither asleep nor awake, made no resistance, + and without any trouble they brought him down to the back gate, putting + him into the coach, Sir Thomas entering with him, and immediately drove + off, about half-past twelve at night, their victim having fallen asleep + again almost as soon as he entered the carriage. + </p> + <p> + The warmth of the carriage, and the comfort of its cushioned sides and + seat occasioned his sleep to become more natural and refreshing. The + consequence was, that he soon began to exhibit symptoms of awakening. At + first he groaned deeply, as if under the influence of physical pain, or + probably from the consciousness of some apprehension arising from the + experience of what he had already suffered. By and by the groan subsided + to a sigh, whose expression was so replete with misery and dread, that it + might well have touched and softened any heart. As yet, however, the fumes + of intoxication had not departed, and his language was so mingled with the + feeble delirium resulting from it, and the terrors arising from the + situation in which he felt himself placed, that it was not only wild and + melancholy by turns, but often scarcely intelligible. Still it was evident + that one great apprehension absorbed all his other thoughts and + sensations, and seemed, whilst it lasted, to bury him in the darkness of + despair. + </p> + <p> + “Hold!” he exclaimed; “where am I?—what is this? Let me see, or, + rather, let me feel where I am, for that is the more appropriate + expression, considering that I am in utter obscurity. What is this, I ask + again? Is my hospitable friend with me? he with whom I partook of that + delicious liquor under 'the greenwood-tree'?” + </p> + <p> + He then searched about, and in doing so his hands came necessarily in + contact with the bulky person of the baronet. “What!” he proceeded, + supposing still that it was Gillespie, “is this you, my friend?—but + I take that fact for granted. Sir, you are a gentleman, and know how to + address a gentleman with proper respect; but how is this, you have on your + hat? Sir, you forget yourself—uncover, and remember you are in my + presence.” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered the words, he seized the baronet's hat, tore it forcibly + off, and, in doing so, accidentally removed a mask which that worthy + gentleman had taken the precaution to assume, in order to prevent himself + from being recognized. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” exclaimed Fenton, with something like a shriek—“a mask! Oh, my + God! This mysterious enemy is upon me! I am once more caught in his toils! + What have I done to deserve this persecution? I am innocent of all offence—all + guilt. My life has been one of horror and of suffering indescribable, but + not of crime; and although they say I am insane, I know there is a God + above who will render me justice, and my oppressor justice, and who knows + that I have given offence to none. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is a bird that sings alone—heigh ho! + And every note is but a tone of woe. + Heigh ho!” + </pre> + <p> + The baronet grasped his wrist tightly with one hand—and both feeble + and attenuated was that poor wrist—the baronet, we say, grasped it, + and in an instant had regained possession of the mask, which he + deliberately replaced on his face, after which he seized the unfortunate + young man by the neck, and pressed it with such force as almost to + occasion suffocation. Still he (Sir Thomas) uttered not a syllable, a + circumstance which in the terrified mind of his unhappy victim caused his + position as well as that of his companion to assume a darker, and + consequently a more terrible mystery. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed, in a low and trembling voice, “I know you now. You are + the stranger who came to stop in the 'Mitre.' Yes, you came down to stop + in the 'Mitre.' I know you by your strong grasp. I care not, however, for + your attempt to strangle me. I forgive you—I pardon you; and I will + tell you why—treat me as violently as you may—I feel that + there is goodness in your face, and mercy in your heart. But I did see a + face, one day, in the inn,” he added, in a voice that gradually became + quite frantic—“a face that was dark, damnable, and demoniac—oh, + oh! may God of heaven ever preserve me from seeing that face again!” he + exclaimed, shuddering wildly. “Open me up the shrouded graves, my friend; + I will call you so notwithstanding what has happened, for I still think + you are a gentleman; open me up, I say, the shrouded graves—set me + among the hideous dead, in all their ghastly and loathsome putrefaction—lay + me side by side with the sweltering carcass of the gibbeted murderer—give + me such a vision, and expose me to the anger of the Almighty when raging + in his vengeance; or, if there be a pitch of horror still beyond this, + then I say—mark me, my friend—then I say, open me up all hell + at full work—hissing, boiling, bubbling, scalding, roasting, frying, + scorching, blazing, burning, but ever-consuming hell, sir, I say, in full + operation—the whole dark and penal machinery in full play—open + it up—there they are—the yell, the scream, the blasphemy, the + shout, the torture, the laughter of despair—with the pleasing + consciousness that all this is to be eternal; hark ye, sir, open me up a + view of this aforesaid spectacle upon the very brow of perdition, and + having allowed me time to console myself by a contemplation of it, fling + me, soul and body, into the uttermost depths of its howling tortures; do + any or all of these things, sooner than let me have a sight of that face + again—it bears such a terrible resemblance to that which blighted + me.” + </p> + <p> + He then paused for a little, and seemed as if about to sink into a calmer + and more thoughtful mood—at least the baronet inferred as much from + his silence. The latter still declined to speak, for he felt perfectly + aware, from this incoherent outburst, that although Fenton had seen him + only two or three times, many years ago, when the unfortunate young man + was scarcely a boy, yet he had often heard his voice, and he consequently + avoided every possibility of giving the former a clew to his identity. At + length Fenton broke silence. + </p> + <p> + “What was I saying?” he asked. “Did I talk of that multitudinous limbo + called hell? Well, who knows, perhaps there may be a general jail delivery + there yet; but talking of the thing, I assure you, sir, I feel a portion + of its tortures. Like Dives—no, not like the rich and hardened + glutton—I resemble him in nothing but my sufferings. Oh! a drink, a + drink—water, water—my tongue, my mouth, my throat, my blood, + my brain, are all on fire?” + </p> + <p> + Oh, false ambition, to what mean and despicable resources, to what low and + unscrupulous precautions dost thou stoop in order to accomplish thy + selfish, dishonest, and heartless designs! The very gratification of this + expected thirst had been provided for and anticipated. As Fenton spoke, + the baronet took from one of the coach pockets a large flask of spirits + and water, which he instantly, but without speaking, placed in the + scorching wretch's hands, who without a moment's hesitation, put it to his + lips and emptied it at one long, luxurious draught. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, friend,” he then exclaimed; “I have been agreeably mistaken in + you, I find. You are—you must be—no other than my worthy host + of the 'Hedge.' Poor Dives! D—n the glutton; after all, I pity him, + and would fain hope that he has got relief by this time. As for Lazarus, I + fear that his condition in life was no better than it deserved. If he had + been a trump, now, and anxious to render good for evil, he would have + dropped a bottle of aquapura to the suffering glutton, for if worthy Dives + did nothing else, he fed the dogs that licked the old fellow's sores. Fie, + for shame, old Lazarus, d—n me, if I had you back again, but we'd + teach you sympathy for Dives; and how so, my friend of the hawthorn—why, + we'd send him to the poor-house,* or if that wouldn't do, to the mad-house—to + the mad-house. Oh, my God—my God! what is this? Where are you + bringing me, sir? but I know—I feel it—this destiny that's + over me!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It is to be presumed, that Fenton speaks here from his + English experience. We find no poor-houses at the time. +</pre> + <p> + He again became silent for a time, but during the pause, we need scarcely + say, that the pernicious draught began to operate with the desired effect. + </p> + <p> + “That mask,” he then added, as if speaking to himself, “bodes me nothing + but terror and persecution, and all this in a Christian country, where + there are religion and laws—at least, they say so—as for + raypart, I could never discover them. However, it matters not, let us clap + a stout heart to a steep brae, and we may jink them and blink them yet; + that's all. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was a little bird, a very little bird, + And a very little bird was he; + And he sang his little song all the summer day long, + On a branch of the fair green-wood tree. + Heigh ho!” + </pre> + <p> + This little touch of melody, which he sang to a sweet and plaintive air, + seemed to produce a feeling of mournfulness and sorrow in his spirit, for + although the draught he had taken was progressing fast in its operations + upon his intellect, still it only assumed a new and more affecting shape, + and occasioned that singular form and ease of expression which may be + observed in many under the influence of similar stimulants. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he proceeded, “I will soon go home; that is one consolation! There + is a sickness, my friend, whoever you are, at my heart here, and in what + does that sickness consist? I will tell you—in the memory of some + beautiful dreams that I had when a child or little-boy: I remember + something about green fields, groves, dark mountains, and summer rivers + flowing sweetly by. This now, to be sure, is a feeling which but few can + understand. It is called homesickness, and assumes different aspects, my + worthy friend. Sometimes it is a yearning after immortality, which absorbs + and consumes the spirit, and then we die and go to enjoy that which we + have pined for. Now, my worthy mute friend, mark me, in my case the malady + is not so exalted. I only want my green fields, my dark mountains, my + early rivers, with liberty to tread them for a brief space. There lies + over them in my imagination—there does, my worthy and most taciturn + friend, upon my soul there does—a golden light so clear, so pure, so + full of happiness, that I question whether that of heaven itself will + surpass it in radiance. But now I am caged once more, and will never see + anything even like them again.” + </p> + <p> + The poor young man then wept for a couple of minutes, after which he + added, “Yes, sir, this is at once my malady and my hope. You see, then, I + am not worth a plot, nor would it be a high-minded or honorable act for + any gentleman to conspire against one who is nobody's enemy, but appears + to have all the world against him. Yes, and they thought when I used to + get into my silent moods that I was mad. No, but I was in heaven, + enjoying, as I said, my mountains, my rivers, and my green fields. I was + in heaven, I say, and walked in the light of heaven, for I was a little + boy once more, and saw its radiance upon them, as I used to do long ago. + But do you know what occurs to me this moment, most taciturn?” He added, + after a short pause, being moved, probably, by one of those quick and + capricious changes to which both the intoxicated and insane are + proverbially liable: “It strikes me, that you probably are descended from + the man in the iron mask—ha—ha—ha! Or stay, was there + ever such a thing in this benevolent and humane world of ours as a man + with an iron heart? If so, who knows, then, but you may date your ancestry + from him? Ay, right enough; we are in a coach, I think, and going—going—going + to—to—to—ah, where to? I know—oh, my God—we + are going to—to—to——” and here poor Fenton once + more fell asleep, as was evident by his deep but oppressive breathing. + </p> + <p> + Now the baronet, although he maintained a strict silence during their + journey, a silence which it was not his intention to break, made up for + this cautious taciturnity by thought and those reflections which + originated from his designs upon Fenton. He felt astonished, in the first + place, at the measures, whatever they might have been, by which the other + must have obtained means of escaping from the asylum to which he had been + committed with such strict injunctions as to his secure custody. It + occurred to him, therefore, that by an examination of his pockets he might + possibly ascertain some clew to this circumstance, and as the man was not + overburdened with much conscience or delicacy, he came to the + determination, as Fenton was once more dead asleep, to search for and + examine whatever papers he should find about him, if any. For this purpose + he ignited a match—such as they had in those days—and with + this match lit up a small dark lantern, the same to which we have already + alluded. Aided by its light, he examined the sleeping young man's pockets, + in which he felt very little, in the shape of either money or papers, that + could compensate him for this act of larceny. In a breast-pocket, however, + inside his waistcoat, he found pinned to the lining a note—a pound + note—on the back of which was jotted a brief memorandum of the day + on which it was written, and the person from whom he had received it. To + this was added a second memorandum, in the following words: “Mem. This + note may yet be useful to myself if I could get a sincere friend that + would find out the man whose name—Thomas Skipton—is written + here upon it. He is the man I want, for I know his signature.” + </p> + <p> + No sooner had the baronet read these lines, than he examined the several + names on the note, and on coming to one which was underlined evidently by + the same ink that was used by Fenton in the memoranda, his eyes gleamed + with delight, and he waved it to and fro with a grim and hideous triumph, + such as the lurid light of his foul principles flashing through such eyes, + and animating such features as his, could only express. + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy wretch,” thought he, looking upon his unconscious victim, “it is + evident that you are doomed; this man is the only individual living over + whom I have no control, that could give any trace of you; neither of the + other two, for their own sakes, dare speak. Even fate is against you; that + fate which has consigned this beggarly representative of wealth to my + hands, through your own instrumentality. I now feel confident; nay, I am + certain that my projects will and must succeed. The affairs of this world + are regulated unquestionably by the immutable decrees of destiny. What is + to be will be; and I, in putting this wretched, drunken, mad, and besotted + being out of my way, am only an instrument in the hands of that destiny + myself. The blame then is not mine, but that of the law which constrains—forces + me to act the part I am acting, a part which was allotted to me from the + beginning; and this reflection fills me with consolation.” + </p> + <p> + He then re-examined the note, put it into a particular fold of his + pocket-book which had before been empty, in order to keep it distinct, and + once more thrusting it into his pocket, buttoned it carefully up, + extinguished the lantern, and laid himself back in the corner of the + carriage, in which position he reclined, meditating upon the kind + partiality of destiny in his favor, the virtuous tendencies of his own + ambition, and the admirable, because successful, means by which he was + bringing them about. + </p> + <p> + In this manner they proceeded until they reached the entrance of the next + town, when the baronet desired Gillespie to stop. “Go forward,” said he, + “and order a chaise and pair without delay. I think, however, you will + find them ready for you; and if Corbet is there, desire him to return with + you. He has already had his instructions. I am sick of this work, + Gillespie; and I assure you it is not for the son of a common friend that + I would forego my necessary rest, to sit at such an hour with a person who + is both mad and drunk. What is friendship, however, if we neglect its + duties? Care and medical skill may enable this unfortunate young man to + recover his reason, and take a respectable position in the world yet. Go + now and make no delay. I shall take charge of this poor fellow and the + horses until you return. But, mark me, my name is not to be breathed to + mortal, under a penalty that you will find a dreadful one, should you + incur it.” + </p> + <p> + “Never fear, your honor,” replied Gillespie; “I am not the man to betray + trust; and indeed, few gentlemen of your rank, as I said, would go so far + for the son of an auld friend. I'll lose no time, Sir Thomas.” Sir Thomas, + we have had occasion to say more than once, was quick and energetic in all + his resolutions, and beyond doubt, the fact that Gillespie found Corbet + ready and expecting him on this occasion, fully corroborates our opinion. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, it was his invariable habit, whenever he found that more than one + agent or instrument was necessary, to employ them, as far as was possible, + independently of each other. For instance, he had not at all communicated + to Gillespie the fact of his having engaged Corbet in the matter, nor had + the former any suspicion of it until he now received the first hint from + Sir Thomas himself. A chaise and pair in less than five minutes drove + gently, but with steady pace, back to the spot where the baronet stood at + the head of his horses, watching the doors of the carriage on each side + every quarter of a minute, lest by any possible chance his victim might + escape him. Of this, however, there was not the slightest danger; poor + Fenton's sleep, like that of almost all drunken men, having had in it more + of stupor than of ordinary and healthful repose. + </p> + <p> + We have informed our readers that the baronet was not without a strong + tinge of superstition, notwithstanding his religious infidelity, and his + belief in the doctrine of fate and necessity. On finding himself alone at + that dead and dreary hour of the night—half-past two—standing + under a shady range of tall trees that met across the road, and gave a + character of extraordinary gloom and solitude to the place, he began to + experience that vague and undefined terror which steals over the mind from + an involuntary apprehension of the supernatural. A singular degree of + uneasiness came over him: he coughed, he hemmed, in order to break the + death-like stillness in which he stood. He patted the horses, he rubbed + his hand down their backs, but felt considerable surprise and terror on + finding that they both trembled, and seemed by their snorting and tremors + to partake of his own sensations. Under such terrors there is nothing that + extinguishes a man's courage so much as the review of an ill-spent life, + or the reproaches of an evil conscience. Sir Thomas Gourlay could not see + and feel, for the moment, the criminal iniquity of his black and ungodly + ambition, and the crimes into which it involved him. Still, the + consciousness of the flagitious project in which he was engaged against + the unoffending son of his brother, the influence of the hour, and the + solitude in which he stood, together with the operation upon his mind of + some unaccountable fear apart from that of personal violence—all, + when united, threw him into a commotion that resulted from such a dread as + intimated that something supernatural must be near him. He was seized by a + violent shaking of the limbs, the perspiration burst from every pore; and + as he patted the horses a second time for relief, he again perceived that + their terrors were increasing and keeping pace with his own. At length, + his hair fairly stood, and his excitement was nearly as high as excitement + of such a merely ideal character could go, when he thought he heard a step—a + heavy, solemn, unearthly step—that sounded as if there was something + denouncing and judicial in the terrible emphasis with which it went to his + heart, or rather to his conscience. Without having the power to restrain + himself, he followed with his eyes this symbolical tread as it seemed to + approach the coach door on the side at which he stood. This was the more + surprising and frightful, as, although he heard the tramp, yet he could + for the moment see nothing in the shape of either figure or form, from + which he could resolve what he had heard into a natural sound. At length, + as he stood almost dissolved in terror, he thought that an indistinct, or + rather an unsubstantial figure stood at the carriage-door, looked in for a + moment, and then bent his glance at him, with a severe and stem + expression; after which, it began to rub out or efface a certain portion + of the armorial bearings, which he had added to his heraldic coat in right + of his wife. The noise of the chaise approaching now reached his ears, and + he turned as a relief to ascertain if Gillespie and Corbet were near him. + As far as he could judge, they were about a couple of hundred yards off, + and this discovery recalled his departed courage; he turned his eyes once + more to the carriage-door, but to his infinite relief could perceive + nothing. A soft, solemn, mournful blast, however, somewhat like a low + moan, amounting almost to a wail, crept through the trees under which he + stood; and after it had subsided—whether it was fact or fancy cannot + now be known—he thought he heard the same step slowly, and, as it + were with a kind of sorrowful anger, retreating in the distance. + </p> + <p> + “If mortal spirit,” he exclaimed as they approached, “ever was permitted + to return to this earth, that form was the spirit of my mortal brother. + This, however,” he added, but only in thought, when they came up to him, + and after he had regained his confidence by their presence, “this is all + stuff—nothing but solitude and its associations acting upon the + nerves; thus enabling us, as we think, to see the very forms created only + by our fears, and which, apart from them, have no existence.” + </p> + <p> + The men and the chaise were now with him—Gillespie on horseback, + that is to say, he was to bring back the same animal on which Sir Thomas + had secretly despatched Corbet from Red Hall to the town of ———, + for the purpose of having the chaise ready, and conducting Fenton to his + ultimate destination. The poor young man's transfer from the carriage to + the chaise was quickly and easily effected. Several large flasks of strong + spirits and water were also transferred along with him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Corbet,” observed Sir Thomas apart to him, “you have full + instructions how to act; and see that you carry them out to the letter. + You will find no difficulty in keeping this person in a state of + intoxication all the way. Go back to ———, engage old + Bradbury to drive the chaise, for, although deaf and stupid, he is an + excellent driver. Change the chaise and horses, however, as often as you + can, so as that it may be difficult, if not impossible, to trace the route + you take. Give Benson, who, after all, is the prince of mad doctors, the + enclosure which you have in the blank cover; and tell him, he shall have + an annuity to the same amount, whether this fellow lives or dies. Mark me, + Corbet—whether his charge lives or dies. Repeat these words to him + twice, as I have done to you. Above all things, let him keep him safe—safe—safe. + Remember, Corbet, that our family have been kind friends to yours. I, + therefore, have trusted you all along in this matter, and calculate upon + your confidence as a grateful and honest man, as well as upon your + implicit obedience to every order I have given you. I myself shall drive + home the carriage; and when we get near Red Hall, Gillespie can ride + forward, have his horse put up, and the stable and coachhouse doors open, + so that everything tomorrow morning may look as if no such expedition had + taken place.” + </p> + <p> + They then separated; Corbet to conduct poor Fenton to his dreary cell in a + mad-house, and Sir Thomas to seek that upon which, despite his most + ambitious projects, he had been doomed all his life to seek after in vain—rest + on an uneasy pillow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. A Scene in Jemmy Trailcudgel's + </h2> + <h3> + —Retributive Justice, or the Robber robbed. + </h3> + <p> + In the days of which we write, travelling was a very different process + from what it is at present. Mail-coaches and chaises were the only + vehicles then in requisition, with the exception of the awkward gingles, + buggies, and other gear of that nondescript class which were peculiar to + the times, and principally confined to the metropolis. The result of this + was, that travellers, in consequence of the slow jog-trot motion of those + curious and inconvenient machines, were obliged, in order to transact + their business with something like due dispatch, to travel both by night + and day. In this case, as in others, the cause produced the effect; or + rather, we should say, the temptation occasioned the crime. + Highway-robbery was frequent; and many a worthy man—fat farmer and + wealthy commoner—was eased of his purse in despite of all his armed + precautions and the most sturdy resistance. The poorer classes, in every + part of the country, were, with scarcely an exception, the friends of + those depredators; by whom, it is true, they were aided against + oppression, and assisted in their destitution, as a compensation for + connivance and shelter whenever the executive authorities were in pursuit + of them. Most of these robberies, it is true, were the result of a loose + and disorganized state of society, and had their direct origin from + oppressive and unequal laws, badly or partially administered. Robbery, + therefore, in its general character, was caused, not so much by poverty, + as from a desperate hatred of those penal statutes which operated for + punishment but not for protection. Our readers may not feel surprised, + then, when we assure them that the burgler and highway-robber looked upon + this infamous habit as a kind of patriotic and political profession, + rather than a crime; and it is well known that within the last century the + sons of even decent farmers were bound apprentices to this flagitious + craft, especially to that of horse stealing, which was then reduced to a + system of most extraordinary ingenuity and address. Still, there were many + poor wretches who, sunk in the deepest destitution, and contaminated by a + habit which familiarity had deprived in their eyes of much of its inherent + enormity, scrupled not to relieve their distresses by having recourse to + the prevalent usage of the country. + </p> + <p> + Having thrown out these few preparatory observations, we request our + readers to follow us to the wretched cabin of a man whose <i>nom de guerre</i> + was that of Jemmy Trailcudgel—a name that was applied to him, as the + reader may see, in consequence of the peculiar manner in which he carried + the weapon aforesaid. Trailcudgel was a man of enormous personal strength + and surprising courage, and had distinguished himself as the leader of + many a party and faction fight in the neighboring fairs and markets. He + had been, not many years before, in tolerably good circumstances, as a + tenant under Sir Thomas Gourlay; and as that gentleman had taken it into + his head that his tenantry were bound, as firmly as if there had been a + clause to that effect in their leases, to bear patiently and in respectful + silence, the imperious and ribald scurrility which in a state of + resentment, he was in the habit of pouring upon them, so did he lose few + opportunities of making them feel, for the most-trivial causes, all the + irresponsible insolence of the strong and vindictive tyrant. Now, Jemmy + Trailcudgel was an honest man, whom every one liked; but he was also a man + of spirit, whom, in another sense, most people feared. Among his family he + was a perfect child in affection and tenderness—loving, playful, and + simple as one of themselves. Yet this man, affectionate, brave, and + honest, because he could not submit in silence and without vindication, to + the wanton and overbearing violence of his landlord, was harassed by a + series of persecutions, under the pretended authority of law, until he and + his unhappy family were driven to beggary—almost to despair. + </p> + <p> + “Trailcudgel,” said Sir Thomas to him one day that he had sent for him in + a fury, “by what right and authority, sirra, did you dare to cut turf on + that part of the bog called Berwick's Bank?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon the right and authority of my lease, Sir Thomas,” replied + Trailcudgel; “and with great respect, sir, you had neither right nor + authority for settin' my bog, that I'm payin' you rent for, to another + tenant.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet grew black in the face, as he always did when in a passion, + and especially when replied to. + </p> + <p> + “You are a lying scoundrel, sirra,” continued the other; “the bog does not + belong to you, and I will set it to the devil if I like.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nobody so fit to be your tenant,” replied Trailcudgel. “But I am + no scoundrel, Sir Thomas,” added the independent fellow, “and there's very + few dare tell me so but yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you villain! do you contradict me? do you bandy words and looks + with me?” asked the baronet, his rage deepening at Trailcudgel's audacity + in having replied at all. + </p> + <p> + “Villain!” returned his gigantic tenant, in a voice of thunder. “You + called me a scoundrel, sirra, and you have called me a villain, sirra, now + I tell you to your teeth, you're a liar—I am neither villain nor + scoundrel; but you're both; and if I hear another word of insolence out of + your foul and lying mouth, I'll thrash you as I would a shafe of whate or + oats.” + </p> + <p> + The black hue of the baronet's rage changed to a much modester tint; he + looked upon the face of the sturdy yeoman, now flushed with honest + resentment; he looked upon the eye that was kindled at once into an + expression of resolution and disdain; and turning on his toe, proceeded at + a pace by no means funereal to the steps of the hall-door, and having + ascended them, he turned round and said, in a very mild and quite a + gentlemanly tone, + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well, Mr. Trailcudgel; very well, indeed. I have a memory, Mr. + Trailcudgel—I have a memory. Good morning!” + </p> + <p> + “Betther for you to have a heart,” replied Trailcudgel; “what you never + had.” + </p> + <p> + Having uttered these words he departed, conscious at the same time, from + his knowledge of his landlord's unrelenting malignity, that his own fate + was sealed, and his ruin accomplished. And he was right. In the course of + four years after their quarrel, Trailcudgel found himself, and his + numerous family, in the scene of destitution to which we are about to + conduct the indulgent reader. + </p> + <p> + We pray you, therefore, gentle reader, to imagine yourself in a small + cabin, where there are two beds—that is to say, two scanty portions + of damp straw, spread out thinly upon a still damper foot of earth, in a + portion of which the foot sinks when walking over it. The two beds—each + what is termed a shake down—have barely covering enough to preserve + the purposes of decency, but not to communicate the usual and necessary + warmth. In consequence of the limited area of the cabin floor they are not + far removed from each other. Upon a little three-legged stool, between + them, burns a dim rush candle, whose light is so exceedingly feeble that + it casts ghastly and death-like shadows over the whole inside of the + cabin. That family consists of nine persons, of whom five are lying ill of + fever, as the reader, from the nature of their bedding, may have already + anticipated—for we must observe here, that the epidemic was rife at + the time. Food of any description has not been under that roof for more + than twenty-four hours. They are all in bed but one. A low murmur, that + went to the heart of that one, with a noise which seemed to it louder and + more terrible than the deepest peal that ever thundered through the + firmament of heaven—a low murmur, we say, of this description, arose + from the beds, composed of those wailing sounds that mingle together as + they proceed from the lips of weakness, pain, and famine, until they form + that many-toned, incessant, and horrible voice of multiplied misery, which + falls upon the ear with the echoes of the grave, and upon the heart as + something wonderful in the accents of God, or, as we may suppose the voice + of the accusing angel to be, whilst recording before His throne the + official inhumanity of councils and senates, who harden their hearts and + shut their ears to “the cry of the poor.” + </p> + <p> + Seated upon a second little stool was a man of huge stature, clothed, if + we can say I so, with rags, contemplating the misery around him, and + having no sounds to listen to but the low, ceaseless wail of pain and + suffering which we have described. His features, once manly and handsome, + are now sharp and hollow; his beard is grown; his lips are white; and his + eyes without I speculation, unless when lit up into an occasional blaze of + fire, that seemed to proceed as much from the paroxysms of approaching + insanity as from the terrible scene which surrounds him, as well as from + his own I wolfish desire for food. His cheek bones project fearfully, and + his large temples seem, by the ghastly skin which is drawn tight about + them, to remind one of those of a skeleton, were it not that the image is + made still more appalling by the existence of life. Whilst in this + position, motionless as a statue, a voice from one of the beds called out + “Jemmy,” with a tone so low and feeble that to other ears it would + probably not have been distinctly audible. He went to the bedside, and + taking the candle in his hand, said, in a voice that had lost its strength + but not its tenderness: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mary dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Jemmy,” said she, for it was his wife who had called him, “my time has + come. I must lave you and them at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks be to the Almighty,” he exclaimed, fervently; “and don't be + surprised, darlin' of my life, that I spake as I do. Ah, Mary dear,” he + proceeded, with, a wild and bitter manner, “I never thought that my love + for you would make me say such words, or wish to feel you torn out of my + breakin' heart; but I know how happy the change will be for you, as well + as the sufferers you are lavin' behind you. Death now is our only + consolation.” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be that God, who knows the kind and affectionate heart you + have, an' ever had,” replied his dying wife, “will neglect you and them + long,”—but she answered with difficulty. “We were very happy,” she + proceeded, slowly, however, and with pain; “for, hard as the world was of + late upon us, still we had love and affection among ourselves; and that, + Jemmy, God in his goodness left us, blessed be his—his—holy + name—an' sure it was betther than all he took from us. I hope poor + Alley will recover; she's now nearly a girl, an' will be able to take care + of you and be a mother to the rest. I feel that my tongue's gettin' wake; + God bless you and them, an', above all, her—for she was our darlin' + an' our life, especially yours. Raise me up a little,” she added, “till I + take a last look at them before I go.” He did so, and after casting her + languid eyes mournfully over the wretched sleepers, she added: “Well, God + is good, but this is a bitther sight for a mother's heart. Jemmy,” she + proceeded, “I won't be long by myself in heaven; some of them will be with + me soon—an' oh, what a joyful meeting will that be. But it's you I + feel for most—it's you I'm loath to lave, light of my heart. + Howsomever, God's will be done still. He sees we can't live here, an' He's + takin' us to himself. Don't, darlin', don't kiss me, for fraid you might + catch this fav——” + </p> + <p> + She held his hand in hers during this brief and tender dialogue, but on + attempting to utter the last word he felt a gentle pressure, then a slight + relaxation, and on holding the candle closer to her emaciated face—which + still bore those dim traces of former beauty, that, in many instances, + neither sickness nor death can altogether obliterate—he stooped and + wildly kissed her now passive lips, exclaiming, in words purposely low, + that the other inmates of the cabin might not hear them: + </p> + <p> + “A million favers, my darlin' Mary, would not prevent me from kissin' your + lips, that will never more be opened with words of love and kindness to my + heart. Oh, Mary, Mary! little did I drame that it would be in such a + place, and in such a way, that you'd lave me and them.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page409.jpg" + alt="Page 409-- he Stooped and Wildly Kissed Her Now Passive Lips " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + He had hardly spoken, when one of the little ones, awaking, said: + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, come here, an' see what ails Alley; she won't spake to me.” + </p> + <p> + “She's asleep, darlin', I suppose,” he replied; “don't spake so loud, or + you'll waken her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but she's as could as any tiling,” continued the little one; “an'I + can't rise her arm to put it about me the way it used to be.” + </p> + <p> + Her father went over, and placing' the dim light close to her face, as he + had done to that of her mother, perceived at a glance, that when the + spirit of that affectionate mother—of that faithful wife—went + to happiness, she had one kindred soul there to welcome her. + </p> + <p> + The man, whom we need not name to the reader, now stood in the centre of + his “desolate hearth,” and it was indeed a fearful thing to contemplate + the change which the last few minutes had produced on his appearance. His + countenance ceased to manifest any expression of either grief or sorrow; + his brows became knit, and fell with savage and determined gloom, not + unmingled with fury, over his eyes, that now blazed like coals of lire. + His lips, too, became tight and firm, and were pressed closely together, + unconsciously and without effort. In this mood, we say, he gazed about + him, his heart smote with sorrow and affliction, whilst it boiled with + indignation and fury. “Thomas Gourlay,” he exclaimed—“villain—oppressor—murdherer—devil—this + is your work! but I here entreat the Almighty God “—he droppe'd on + his knees as he spoke—“never to suffer you to lave this world till + he taches you that he can take vengeance for the poor.” Looking around him + once more, he lit a longer rushlight, and placed it in the little wooden + candlestick, which had a slit at the top, into which the rush was pressed. + Proceeding then to the lower corner of the cabin, he put up his hand to + the top of the side wall, from which he took down a large stick, or + cudgel, having a strong leathern thong in the upper part, within about six + inches of the top. Into this thong he thrust his hand, and twisting it + round his wrist, in order that no accident or chance blow might cause him + to lose his grip of it, he once more looked upon this scene of unexampled + wretchedness and sorrow, and pulling his old caubeen over his brow, left + the cabin. + </p> + <p> + It is altogether impossible to describe the storm of conflicting passions + and emotions that raged and jostled against each other within him. Sorrow—a + sense of relief—on behalf of those so dear to him, who had been + rescued from such misery; the love which he bore them now awakened into + tenfold affection and tenderness by their loss; the uncertain fate of his + other little brood, who were ill, but still living; then the destitution—the + want of all that could nourish or sustain them—the furious ravenings + of famine, which he himself felt—and the black, hopeless, + impenetrable future—all crowded, upon his heart, swept through his + frantic imagination, and produced those maddening but unconscious + impulses, under the influence of which great crimes are frequently + committed, almost before their perpetrator is aware of his having + committed them. + </p> + <p> + Trailcudgel, on leaving his cabin, cared not whither he went; but, by one + of those instincts which direct the savage to the peculiar haunts where + its prey may be expected, and guides the stupid drunkard to his own + particular dwelling, though unconscious even of his very existence at the + time—like either, or both, of these, he went on at as rapid a pace + as his weakness would permit, being quite ignorant of his whereabouts + until he felt himself on the great highway. He looked at the sky now with + an interest he had never felt before. The night was exceedingly dark, but + calm and warm. An odd star here and there presented itself, and he felt + glad at this, for it removed the monotony of the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said he to himself, “is the place where Mary and Alley live now. + Up there, in heaven. I am glad of it; but still, how will I enther the + cabin, and not hear their voices? But the other poor creatures! musn't I + do something for them, or they will go too? Yes, yes,—but whisht! + what noise is that? Ha! a coach. Now for it. May God support me! Here + comes the battle for the little ones—for the poor weak hand that's + not able to carry the drink to its lips. Poor darlins! Yes, darlins, your + father is now goin' to fight your battle—to put himself, for your + sakes, against the laws of man, but not against the laws of nature that + God has put into my heart for my dying childre. Either the one funeral + will carry three corpses to the grave, or I will bring yez relief. It's + comin' near, and I'll stand undher this tree.” + </p> + <p> + In accordance with this resolution, he planted himself under a large clump + of trees where, like the famished tiger, he awaited the arrival of the + carriage. And, indeed, it is obvious that despair, and hunger, and sorrow, + had brought him down to the first elements of mere animal life; and + finding not by any process of reasoning or inference, but by the agonizing + pressure of stern reality, that the institutions of social civilization + were closed against him and his, he acted precisely as a man would act in + a natural and savage state, and who had never been admitted to a + participation in the common rights of humanity—we mean, the right to + live honestly, when willing and able to contribute his share of labor and + industry to the common stock. + </p> + <p> + Let not our readers mistake us. We are not defending the crime of robbery, + neither would we rashly palliate it, although there are instances of it + which deserve not only palliation, but pardon. We are only describing the + principles upon which this man acted, and, considering his motives, we + question whether this peculiar act, originating as it did in the noblest + virtues and affections of our nature, was not rather an act of heroism + than of robbery. This point, however, we leave to metaphysicians, and + return to our narrative. + </p> + <p> + The night, as we said, was dark, and the carriage in question was + proceeding at that slow and steady pace which was necessary to insure + safety. Sir Thomas, for it was he, sat on the dickey; Gillespie having + proceeded in advance of him, in order to get horses, carriage, and + everything safely put to rights without the possibility of observation. + </p> + <p> + We may as well mention here that his anxiety to keep the events of the + night secret had overcome his apprehensions of the supernatural, and + indeed, it may not be impossible that he made acquaintance with one of the + flasks that had been destined for poor Fenton. Of this, however, we are by + no means certain; we only throw it out, therefore, as a probability. + </p> + <p> + It is well known that the stronger and more insupportable passions sharpen + not only the physical but the mental faculties in an extraordinary degree. + The eye of the bird of prey, which is mostly directed by the savage + instincts of hunger, can view its quarry at an incredible distance; and, + instigated by vengeance, the American Indian will trace his enemy by marks + which the utmost ingenuity of civilized man would never enable him to + discover. Quickened by something of the kind, Trailcudgel instantly + recognized his bitter and implacable foe, and in a moment an unusual + portion of his former strength returned, with the impetuous and energetic + resentment which the appearance of the baronet, at that peculiar crisis, + had awakened. When the carriage came nearly opposite where he stood, the + frantic and unhappy man was in an instant at the heads of the horses, and, + seizing the reins, brought them to a stand-still. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter there?” exclaimed the baronet, who, however, began to + feel very serious alarm. “Why do you stop the horses, my friend? All's + right, and I'm much obliged—pray let them go.” + </p> + <p> + “All's wrong,” shouted the other in a voice so deep, hoarse, and terrible + in the wildness of its intonations, that no human being could recognize it + as that of Trailcudgel; “all's wrong,” he shouted; “I demand your money! + your life or your money—quick!” + </p> + <p> + “This is highway-robbery,” replied Sir Thomas, in a voice of + expostulation, “think of what you are about, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + But, as he spoke, Trailcudgel could observe that he put his hand behind + him as if with the intent of taking fire-arms out of his pocket. Like + lightning was the blow which tumbled him from his seat upon the two + horses, and a fortunate circumstance it proved, for there is little doubt + that his neck would have been broken, or the fall proved otherwise fatal + to so heavy a man, had he been precipitated directly, and from such a + height, upon the hard road. As it was, he found himself instantly in the + ferocious clutches of Trailcudgel, who dragged him from the horses, as a + tiger would a bull, and ere he could use hand or word in his own defence, + he felt the muzzle of one of his own pistols pressed against his head. + </p> + <p> + “Easy, mfriend!” he exclaimed, in a voice that was rendered infirm by + terror; “do not take my life—don't murder me—you shall have my + money.” + </p> + <p> + “Murdher!” shouted the other. “Ah, you black dog of hell, it is on your + red sowl that many a murdher lies. Murdher!” he exclaimed, in words that + were thick, vehement, and almost unintelligible with rage. “Ay, murdher is + it? It was a just God that put the words into your guilty heart—and + wicked lips—prepare, your last moment's come—your doom is + sealed—are you ready to die, villain?” + </p> + <p> + The whole black and fearful tenor of the baronet's life came like a vision + of hell itself over his conscience, now fearfully awakened to the terrible + position in which he felt himself placed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” he replied, in a voice whose tremulous tones betrayed the full + extent of his agony and terrors. “Oh, no!” he exclaimed. “Spare me, + whoever you are—spare my life, and if you will come to mo to-morrow, + I promise, in the presence of God, to make you independent as long as you + live. Oh, spare me, for the sake of the living God—for I am not fit + to die. If you kill me now, you will have the perdition of my soul to + answer for at the bar of judgment. If you spare me, I will reform my life—I + will become a virtuous man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the other, relaxing—“for the sake of the name you + have used, and in the hope that this may be a warnin' to you for your + good, I will leave your wicked and worthless life with you. No, I'll not + be the man that will hurl you into perdition—but it is on one + condition—you must hand me out your money before I have time to + count ten. Listen now—if I haven't every farthing that's about you + before that reckonin's made, the bullet that's in this pistol will be + through your brain.” + </p> + <p> + The expedition of the baronet was amazing, for as Jemmy went on with this + disastrous enumeration, steadily and distinctly, but not quickly, he had + only time to get as far as eight when he found himself in possession of + the baronet's purse. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all here?” he asked. “No tricks—no lyin'—the truth? for + I'll search you.” + </p> + <p> + “You may,” replied the other, with confidence; “and you may shoot me, too, + if you find another farthing in my possession.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” said Trailcudgel, “get home as well as you can, and reform + your life as you promised—as for me, I'll keep the pistols; indeed, + for my own sake, for I have no notion of putting them into your hands at + present.” + </p> + <p> + He then disappeared, and the baronet, having with considerable difficulty + gained the box-seat, reached home somewhat lighter in pocket than he had + left it, convinced besides that an unexpected visit from a natural + apparition is frequently much more to be dreaded than one from the + supernatural. + </p> + <p> + The baronet was in the general affairs of life, penurious in money + matters, but on those occasions where money was necessary to enable him to + advance or mature his plans, conceal his proceedings, or reward his + instruments, he was by no means illiberal. This, however, was mere + selfishness, or rather, we should say, self-preservation, inasmuch as his + success and reputation depended in a great degree upon the liberality of + his corruption. On the present occasion he regretted, no doubt, the loss + of the money, but we are bound to say, that he would have given its amount + fifteen times repeated, to get once more into his hands the single + pound-note of which he had treacherously and like a coward robbed Fenton + while asleep in the carriage. This loss, in connection With the robbery + which occasioned it, forced him to retrace to a considerable extent the + process of ratiocination on the subject of fate and destiny, in which he + had so complacently indulged not long before. + </p> + <p> + No matter how deep and hardened any villain may be, the most reckless and + unscrupulous of the class possess some conscious principle within, that + tells them of their misdeeds, and acquaints them with the fact that a + point in the moral government of life has most certainly been made against + them. So was it now with the baronet. He laid himself upon his gorgeous + bed a desponding, and, for the present, a discomfited man; nor could he + for the life of him, much as he pretended to disregard the operations of a + Divine Providence, avoid coming to the conclusion that the highway robbery + committed on him looked surprisingly like an act of retributive justice. + He consoled himself, it is true, with the reflection, that it was not for + the value of the note that he had committed the crime upon Fenton, for to + him the note, except for its mere amount, was in other respects valueless. + But what galled him to the soul, was the bitter reflection that he did + not, on perceiving its advantage to Fenton, at once destroy it—tear + it up—eat it—swallow it—and thus render it utterly + impossible to ever contravene his ambition or his crimes. In the meantime + slumber stole upon him, but it was neither deep nor refreshing. His mind + was a chaos of dark projects and frightful images. Fenton—the ragged + and gigantic robber, who was so much changed by famine and misery that he + did not know him—the stranger—his daughter—Ginty Cooper, + the fortune-teller—Lord Cullamore—the terrible pistol at his + brain—Dunroe—and all those who were more or less concerned in + or affected by his schemes, flitted through his disturbed fancy like the + figures in a magic lantern, rendering his sleep feverish, disturbed, and + by many degrees more painful than his waking reflections. + </p> + <p> + It has been frequently observed, that violence and tyranny overshoot their + mark; and we may add, that no craft, however secret its operations, or + rather however secret they are designed to be, can cope with the + consequences of even the simplest accident. A short, feverish attack of + illness having seized Mrs. Morgan, the housekeeper, on the night of + Fenton's removal, she persuaded one of the maids to sit up with her, in + order to provide her with whey and nitre, which she took from time to + time, for the purpose of relieving her by cooling the system. The attack + though short was a sharp one, and the poor woman was really very ill. In + the course of the night, this girl was somewhat surprised by hearing + noises in and about the stables, and as she began to entertain + apprehension from robbers, she considered it her duty to consult the sick + woman as to the steps she ought to take. + </p> + <p> + “Take no steps,” replied the prudent housekeeper, “till we know, if we + can, what the noise proceeds from. Go into that closet, but don't take the + candle, lest the light of it might alarm them—it overlooks the + stable-yard—open the window gently; you know it turns upon hinges—and + look out cautiously. If Sir Thomas is disturbed by a false alarm, you + might fly at once; for somehow of late he has lost all command of his + temper.” + </p> + <p> + “But we know the reason of that, Mrs. Morgan,” replied the girl. “It's + because Miss Gourlay refuses to marry Lord Dunroe, and because he's afraid + that she'll run away with a very handsome gentleman that stops in the + Mitre. That's what made him lock her up.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you breathe a syllable of that,” said the cautious Mrs. Morgan, + “for fear you might get locked up yourself. You know, nothing that happens + in this family is ever to be spoken of to any one, on pain of Sir Thomas's + severest displeasure; and you have not come to this time of day without + understanding what what means. But don't talk to me, or rather, don't + expect me to talk to you. My head is very ill, and my pulse going at a + rapid rate. Another drink of that whey, Nancy; then see, if you can, what + that noise means.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy, having handed her the whey, went to the closet window to + reconnoitre; but the reader may judge of her surprise on seeing Sir Thomas + himself moving about with a dark lantern, and giving directions to + Gillespie, who was putting the horses to the carriage. She returned to the + housekeeper on tip-toe, her face brimful of mystery and delight. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think, Mrs. Morgan? If there isn't Sir Thomas himself walking + about with a little lantern, and giving orders to Gillespie, who is yoking + the coach.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Morgan could not refrain from smiling at this comical expression of + yoking the coach; but her face soon became serious, and she said, with a + sigh, “I hope in God this is no further act of violence against his angel + of a daughter. What else could he mean by getting out a carriage at this + hour of the night? Go and look again, Nancy, and see whether you may not + also get a glimpse of Miss Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy, however, arrived at the window only in time to see her master enter + the carriage, and the carriage disappear out of the yard; but whether Miss + Gourlay was in it along with him, the darkness of the night prevented her + from ascertaining. After some time, however, she threw out a suggestion, + on which, with the consent of the patient, she immediately acted. This was + to discover, if possible, whether Miss Gourlay with her maid was in her + own room or not. She accordingly went with a light and stealthy pace to + the door; and as she knew that its fair occupant always slept with a + night-light in her chamber, she put her pretty eye to the keyhole, in + order to satisfy herself on this point. All, however, so far as both sight + and hearing could inform her, was both dark and silent. This was odd; nay, + not only odd, but unusual. She now felt her heart palpitate; she was + excited, alarmed. What was to be done? She would take a bold step—she + would knock—she would whisper through the key-hole, and set down the + interruption to anxiety to mention Mrs. Morgan's sudden and violent + illness. Well, all these remedies for curiosity were tried, all these, + steps taken, and, to a certain extent, they were successful; for there + could indeed be little doubt that Miss Gourlay and her maid were not in + the apartment. Everything now pertaining to the mysterious motions of Sir + Thomas and his coachman was as clear as crystal. He had spirited her away + somewhere—“placed her, the old brute, under some she-dragon or + other, who would make her feed on raw flesh and cobwebs, with a view of + reducing her strength and breaking her spirit.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Morgan, however, with her usual good sense and prudence, recommended + the lively girl to preserve the strictest silence on what she had seen, + and to allow the other servants to find the secret out for themselves if + they could. To-morrow might disclose more, but as at present they had + nothing stronger than suspicion, it would be wrong to speak of it, and + might, besides, be prejudicial to Miss Gourlay's reputation. Such was the + love and respect which all the family felt for the kind-hearted and + amiable Lucy, who was the general advocate with her father when any of + them had incurred his displeasure, that on her account alone, even if + dread of Sir Thomas did not loom like a gathering storm in the background, + not one of them ever seemed to notice her absence, nor did the baronet + himself until days had elapsed. On the morning of the third day he began + to think, that perhaps confinement might have tamed her down into somewhat + of a more amenable spirit; and as he had in the interval taken all + necessary steps to secure the person of the man who robbed him, and + offered a large reward for his apprehension, he felt somewhat satisfied + that he had done all that could be done, and was consequently more at + leisure, and also more anxious to ascertain the temper of mind in which he + should find her. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, the delicious scandal of the supposed elopement was + beginning to creep abroad, and, in fact, was pretty generally rumored + throughout the redoubtable town of Ballytrain on the morning of the third + or fourth day. Of course, we need scarcely assure our intelligent readers, + that the friends of the parties are the very last to whom such a scandal + would be mentioned, not only because such an office is always painful, but + because every one takes it for granted that they are already aware of it + themselves. In the case before us, such was the general opinion, and Sir + Thomas's silence on the subject was imputed by some to the natural + delicacy of a father in alluding to a subject so distressing, and by + others to a calm, quiet spirit of vengeance, which he only restrained + until circumstances should place him in a condition to crush the man who + had entailed shame and disgrace upon his name and family. + </p> + <p> + Such was the state of circumstances upon the third or fourth morning after + Lucy's disappearance, when Sir Thomas called the footman, and desired him + to send Miss Gourlay's maid to him; he wished to speak with her. + </p> + <p> + By this, time it was known through the whole establishment that Lucy and + she had both disappeared, and, thanks to Nancy—to pretty Nancy—“that + her own father, the hard-hearted old wretch, had forced her off—God + knows where—in the dead of night.” + </p> + <p> + The footman, who had taken Nancy's secret for granted; and, to tell the + truth, he had it in the most agreeable and authentic shape—to wit, + from her own sweet lips—and who could be base enough to doubt any + communication so delightfully conveyed?—the footman, we say, on + hearing this command from his master, started a little, and in the + confusion or forgetfulness of the moment, almost stared at him. + </p> + <p> + “What, sirrah,” exclaimed the latter; “did you hear what I said?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, sir,” replied the man, still more confused; “but, I thought, your + honor, that—” + </p> + <p> + “You despicable scoundrel!” said his master, stamping, “what means this? + You thought! What right, sir, have you to think, or to do anything but + obey your orders from me. It was not to think, sir, I brought you here, + but to do your duty as footman. Fetch Miss Gourlay's maid, sir, + immediately. Say I desire to speak with her.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not within, sir,” replied the man trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Then where is she, sir? Why is she absent from her charge?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell, sir. We thought, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking again, you scoundrel!—speak out, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the truth is, your honor, that neither Miss Gourlay nor she has been + here since Tuesday night last.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet had been walking to and fro, as was his wont, but this + information paralyzed him, as if by a physical blow on the brain. He now + went, or rather tottered over, to his arm-chair, into which he dropped + rather than sat, and stared at Gibson the footman as if he had forgotten + the intelligence just conveyed to him. In fact, his confusion was such—so + stunning was the blow—that it is possible he did forget it. + </p> + <p> + “What is that, Gibson?” said he; “tell me; repeat what you said.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, your honor,” replied Gibson, “since last Tuesday night neither Miss + Gourlay nor her maid has been in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there no letter left, nor any verbal information that might satisfy + us as to where they have gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Not any, sir, that I am aware of.” + </p> + <p> + “Was her room examined?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say, sir. You know, sir, I never enter it unless when I am rung + for by Miss Gourlay; and that is very rarely.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think, Gibson, that there is any one in the house that knows more + of this matter than you do?” + </p> + <p> + Gibson shook his head, and replied, “As to that, Sir Thomas, I cannot + say.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet was not now in a rage. The thing was impossible; not within + the energies of nature. He was stunned, stupefied, rendered helpless. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he proceeded, “I observed a girl named Nancy—I forget + what else, Nancy something—that Miss Gourlay seemed to like a good + deal. Send her here. But before you do so, may I beg to know why her + father, her natural guardian and protector, was kept so long in ignorance + of her extraordinary disappearance? Pray, Mr. Gibson, satisfy me on that + head?” + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir,” replied Gibson, most un-gallantly shifting the danger of + the explanation from his own shoulders to the pretty ones of Nancy Forbes—“I + think, sir, Nancy Forbes, the girl you speak of, may know more about the + last matter than I do.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by the last matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, the reason why we did not tell your honor of it sooner—” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas waved his hand. “Go,” he added, “send her here.” + </p> + <p> + “D—n the old scoundrel,” thought Gibson to himself; “but that's a + fine piece of acting. Why, if he hadn't been aware of it all along he + would have thrown me clean out of the window, even as the messenger of + such tidings. However, he is not so deep as he thinks himself. We know him—see + through him—on this subject at least.” + </p> + <p> + When Nancy entered, her master gave her one of those stern, searching + looks which often made his unfortunate menials tremble before him. + </p> + <p> + “What's your name, my good girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Nancy Forbes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been in this family?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm in the first month of my second quarter, your honor,” with a + courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “You are a pretty girl.” + </p> + <p> + Nancy, with another courtesy, and a simper, which vanity, for the life of + her, could not suppress, “Oh la, sir, how could your honor say such a + thing of a humble girl like me? You that sees so many handsome great + ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you a sweetheart?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy fairly tittered. “Is it me, sir—why, who would think of the + like of me? Not one, sir, ever I had.” + </p> + <p> + “Because, if you have,” he proceeded, “and that I approve of him, I + wouldn't scruple much to give you something that might enable you and your + husband to begin the world with comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure it's very kind, your honor, but I never did anything to desarve + so much goodness at your honor's hands.” + </p> + <p> + “The old villain wants to bribe me for something,” thought Nancy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you may, my good girl. I think you are a favorite with Miss + Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha!” thought Nancy, “I am sure of it now.” + </p> + <p> + “That's more than I know, sir,” she replied. “Miss Gourlay—God bless + and protect her—was kind to every one; and not more so to me than to + the other servants.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just been informed by Gibson, that she and her maid left the Hall + on Tuesday night last. Now, answer me truly, and you shall be the better + for it. Have you any conception, any suspicion, let us say, where they + have gone to?” + </p> + <p> + “La, sir, sure your honor ought to know that better than me.” + </p> + <p> + “How so, my pretty girl? How should I know it? She told me nothing about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, wasn't it your honor and Tom Gillespie that took her away in the + carriage on that very night?” + </p> + <p> + Here now was wit against wit, or at least cunning against cunning. Nancy, + the adroit, hazarded an assertion of which she was not certain, in order + to probe the baronet, and place him in a position by which she might be + able by his conduct and manner to satisfy herself whether her suspicions + were well-founded or not. + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know, my good girl, that I and Gillespie were out that + night?” + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to repeat here circumstances with which the reader is + already acquainted. Nancy gave him the history of Mrs. Morgan's sudden + illness, and all the other facts already mentioned. + </p> + <p> + “But there is one thing that I still cannot understand,” replied the + baronet, “which is, that the disappearance of Miss Gourlay was never + mentioned to me until I inquired for her maid, whom I wished to speak + with.” + </p> + <p> + “But sure that's very natural, sir,” replied Nancy; “the reason we didn't + speak to you upon the subject was because we thought that it was your + honor who brought her away; and that as you took such a late hour in the + night for it, you didn't wish that we should know anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet's eye fell upon her severely, as if he doubted the truth of + what she said. Nancy's eye, however, neither avoided his nor quailed + before it. She now spoke the truth, and she did so, in order to prevent + herself and the other servants from incurring his resentment by their + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” observed Sir Thomas, calmly, but sternly. “I think you have + spoken what you believe to be the truth, and what, for all you know, may + be the truth. But observe my words: let this subject be never breathed nor + uttered by any domestic in my establishment. Tell your fellow-servants + that such are my orders; for I swear, if I find that any one of you shall + speak of it, my utmost vengeance shall pursue him or her to death itself. + That will do.” And he signed to her to retire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. Dunphy visits the County Wicklow + </h2> + <h3> + —Old Sam and his Wife. + </h3> + <p> + It was about a week subsequent to the interview which the stranger had + with old Dunphy, unsuccessful as our readers know it to have been, that + the latter and his wife were sitting in the back parlor one night after + their little shop had been closed, when the following dialogue took place + between them: + </p> + <p> + “Well, at all events,” observed the old man, “he was the best of them, and + to my own knowledge that same saicret lay hot and heavy on his conscience, + especially to so good a master and mistress as they were to him. The truth + is, Polly, I'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + “But why didn't he do it himself?” asked his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Why?—why?” he replied, looking at her with his keen ferret eyes—“why, + don't you know what a weak-minded, timorsome creature he was, ever since + the height o' my knee?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ay,” she returned; “and I hard something about an oath, I think, that + they made him take.” + </p> + <p> + “You did,” said her husband; “and it was true, too. They swore him never + to breathe a syllable of it until his dying day—an' although they + meant by that that he should never reveal it at all, yet he always was of + opinion that he might tell it on that day, but on no other one. And it was + his intention to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't it an unlucky thing that she happened to be out when he could do + it with a safe conscience?” observed his wife. + </p> + <p> + “They almost threatened the life out of the poor creature,” pursued her + husband, “for Tom threatened to murder him if he betrayed them; and Ginty + to poison him, if Tom didn't keep his word—and I believe in my sowl + that the same devil's pair would a' done either the one or the other, if + he had broken his oath. Of the two, however, Ginty's the worst, I think; + and I often believe, myself, that she deals with the devil; but that, I + suppose, is bekaise she's sometimes not right in her head still.” + </p> + <p> + “If she doesn't dale with the devil, the devil dales with her at any + rate,” replied the other. “They'll be apt to gain their point, Tom and + she.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom, I know, is just as bitther as she is,” observed the old man, “and + Ginty, by her promises as to what she'll do for him, has turned his heart + altogether to stone; and yet I know a man that's bittherer against the + black fellow than either o' them. She only thinks of the luck that's + before her; but, afther all, Tom acts more from hatred to him than from + Ginty's promises. He has no bad feelin' against the young man himself; but + it's the others he's bent on punishing. God direct myself, I wish at any + rate that I never had act or hand in it. As for your time o' life and + mine, Polly, you know that age puts it out of our power ever to be much + the betther one way or the other, even if Ginty does succeed in her + devilry. Very few years now will see us both in our graves, and I don't + know but it's safer to lave this world with an aisy conscience, than to + face God with the guilt of sich a black saicret as that upon us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but haven't you promised them not to tell?” + </p> + <p> + “I have—an' only that I take sich delight in waitin' to see the + black scoundrel punished till his heart 'll burst—I think I'd come + out with it. That's one raison; and the other is, that I'm afraid of the + consequences. The law's a dangerous customer to get one in its crushes, + an' who can tell how we'd be dealt with?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, an' that's true enough,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “And when I promised poor Edward on his death-bed,” proceeded the old man, + “I made him give me a sartin time; an' I did this in ordher to allow Ginty + an opportunity of tryin' her luck. If she does not manage her point within + that time, I'll fulfil my promise to the dyin' man.” + </p> + <p> + “But, why,” she asked, “did he make you promise to do it when he could—ay, + but I forgot. It was jist, I suppose, in case he might be taken short as + he was, and that you wor to do it for him if he hadn't an opportunity? + But, sure, if Ginty succeeds, there's an end to your promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I believe so,” said the old man; “but if she does succeed, why, all + I'll wondher at will be that God would allow it. At any rate she's the + first of the family that ever brought shame an' disgrace upon the name. + Not but she felt her misfortune keen enough at the time, since it turned + her brain almost ever since. And him, the villain—but no matter—he, + must be punished.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” replied the wife, “wont Ginty be punishin' him?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Polly, you know little of the plans—the deep plans an' plots + that he's surrounded by. We know ourselves that there's not such a plotter + in existence as he is, barin' them that's plottin' aginst him. Lord bless + us! but it's a quare world—here is both parties schamin' an' + plottin' away—all bent on risin' themselves higher in it by pride + and dishonesty. There's the high rogue and the low rogue—the great + villain and the little villain—musha! Polly, which do you think is + worst, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I think it's six o' one and half-a-dozen of the other with them. + Still, a body would suppose that the high rogue ought to rest contented; + but it's a hard thing they say to satisfy the cravin's of man's heart when + pride, an' love of wealth an' power, get into it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not at all happy in my mind, Polly,” observed her husband, + meditatively; “I'm not at aise—and I won't bear this state of mind + much longer. But, then, again, there's my pension; and that I'll lose if I + spake out. I sometimes think I'll go to the country some o' these days, + and see an ould friend.” + </p> + <p> + “An where to, if it's a fair question?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he replied, “maybe it's a fair-question to ask, but not so fair to + answer. Ay! I'll go to the country—I'll start in a few days—in + a few days! No, savin' to me, but I'll start to-morrow. Polly, I could + tell you something if I wished—I say I have a secret that none o' + them knows—ay, have I. Oh, God pardon me! The d——d + thieves, to make me, me above all men, do the blackest part of the + business—an' to think o' the way they misled Edward, too—who, + after all, would be desavin' poor Lady Gourlay, if he had tould her all as + he thought, although he did not know that he would be misleadin' her. Yes, + faith, I'll start for the country tomorrow, plaise God; but listen, Polly, + do you know who's in town?” + </p> + <p> + “Arra, no!—how could I?” + </p> + <p> + “Kate M'Bride, so Ginty tells me; she's livin' with her.” + </p> + <p> + “And why didn't she call to see you?” asked his wife. “And yet God knows + it's no great loss; but if ever woman was cursed wid a step-daughter, I + was wid her.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know very well that we never spoke since her runaway match with + M'Bride. If she had married Cummins, I'd a' given her a purty penny to + help him on; but instead o' that she cuts off with a sojer, bekaise he was + well faced, and starts with him to the Aist Indies. No; I wouldn't spake + to her then, and I'm not sure I'll spake to her now either; and yet I'd + like to see her—the unfortunate woman. However, I'll think of it; + but in the mane time, as I said, I'll start for the country in the + mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + And to the country he did start the next morning; and if, kind reader, it + so happen that you feel your curiosity in any degree excited, all you have + to do is to take a seat in your own imagination, whether outside or in, + matters not, the fare is the same, and thus you will, at no great cost, be + able to accompany him. But before we proceed further we shall, in the + first place, convey you in ours to the ultimate point of his journey. + </p> + <p> + There was, in one of the mountain districts of the county Wicklow, that + paradise of our country, a small white cottage, with a neat flower plot + before, and a small orchard and garden behind. It stood on a little + eminence, at the foot of one of those mountains, which, in some instances, + abut from higher ranges. It was then bare and barren; but at present + presents a very different aspect, a considerable portion of it having been + since reclaimed and planted. Scattered around this rough district were a + number of houses that could be classed with neither farm-house nor cabin, + but as humble little buildings that possessed a feature of each. Those + who; dwelt in them held in general four or five acres of rough land, some + more, but very few less; and we allude to these small tenements, because, + as our readers are aware, the wives of their proprietors were in the habit + of eking out the means of subsistence, and paying their rents, by nursing + illegitimate children or foundlings, which upon a proper understanding, + and in accordance with the usual arrangements, were either transmitted to + them from the hospital of that name in Dublin, or taken charge of by these + women, and conveyed home from that establishment itself. The children thus + nurtured were universally termed parisheens, because it was found more + convenient and less expensive to send a country foundling to the hospital + in Dublin, than to burden the inhabitants of the parish with its + maintenance. A small sum, entitling it to be received in the hospital, was + remitted, and as this sum, in most instances, was levied off the parish, + these wretched creatures were therefore called parisheens, that is, + creatures! aided by parish allowance. + </p> + <p> + The very handsome little cottage into which we are about to give the + reader admittance, commanded a singularly beautiful and picturesque view. + From the little elevation on which it stood could be seen the entrancing + vale of Ovoca, winding in its inexpressible loveliness toward Arklow, and + diversified with green meadows, orchard gardens, elegant villas, and what + was sweeter! than all, warm and comfortable homesteads, more than + realizing our conceptions of Arcadian happiness and beauty. Its + precipitous sides were clothed with the most enchanting variety of + plantation; whilst, like a stream of liquid light, the silver Ovoca shone + sparkling to the sun, as it followed, by the harmonious law of nature, + that graceful line of beauty which characterizes the windings of this + unrivalled valley. The cottage which commanded this rich prospect we have + partially described. It was white as snow, and had about it all those + traits of neatness and good taste which are, we regret! to say, so rare + among, and so badly understood by, our humbler countrymen. The front walls + were covered by honeysuckles, rose trees, and wild brier, and the flower + plot in front was so well stocked, that its summer bloom would have done + credit to the skill of an ordinary florist. The inside of this cottage was + equally neat, clean, and cheerful. The floor, an unusual thing then, was + tiled, which gave it a look of agreeable warmth; the wooden vessels in the + kitchen were white with incessant scouring, whilst the pewter, brass, and + tin, shone in becoming rivalry. The room you entered was the kitchen, off + which was a parlor and two bedrooms, besides one for the servant. + </p> + <p> + As may be inferred from what we have said, the dresser was a perfect treat + to look at, and as the owners kept a cow, we need hardly add that the + delightful fragrance of milk which characterizes every well-kept dairy, + was perfectly ambrosial here. The chairs were of oak, so were the tables; + and a large arm-chair, with a semicircular back, stood at one side of the + clean hearth, whilst over the chimney-piece hung a portrait of General + Wolfe, with an engraving of the siege of Quebec. A series of four silver + medals, enclosed in red morocco cases, having the surface of each + protected by a glass cover, hung from a liliputian rack made of mahogany, + at once bearing testimony to the enterprise and gallantry of the owner, as + well as to the manly pride with which he took such especial pains to + preserve these proud rewards of his courage, and the ability with which he + must have discharged his duty as a soldier. On the table lay a large + Bible, a Prayer-book, and the “Whole Duty of Man,” all neatly and firmly, + but not ostentatiously bound. Some works of a military character lay upon + a little hanging shelf beside the dresser. Over this shelf hung a + fishing-rod, unscrewed and neatly tied up; and upon the top of the other + books lay one bound with red cloth, in which he kept his flies. On one + side of the window sills lay a backgammon box, with which his wife and + himself amused themselves for an hour or two every evening; and fixed in + recesses intended for the purpose, Sam Roberts, for such was his name, + having built the house himself, were comfortable cupboards filled with a + variety of delft, several curious and foreign ornaments, an ostrich's egg, + a drinking cup made of the polished shell of a cocoanut, whilst crossed + saltier-wise over a portrait of himself and of his wife, were placed two + feathers of the bird of paradise, constituting, one might imagine, emblems + significant of the happy life they led. But we cannot close our + description here. Upon the good woman's bosom, fastened to her kerchief, + was a locket which contained a portion of beautiful brown hair, taken from + the youthful head of a deceased son, a manly and promising boy, who died + at the age of seventeen, and whose death, although it did not and could + not throw a permanent gloom over two lives so innocent and happy, + occasioned, nevertheless, periodical recollections of profound and bitter + sorrow. Old Sam had his locket also, but it was invisible; its position + being on that heart whose affections more resembled the enthusiasm of + idolatry than the love of a parent. His wife was a placid, contented + looking old woman, with a complexion exceedingly hale and fresh for her + years; a shrewd, clear, benevolent eye, and a general air which never + fails to mark that ease and superiority of manner to be found only in + those who have had an enlarged experience in life, and seen much of the + world. There she sits by the clear fire and clean, comfortable hearth, + knitting a pair of stockings for her husband, who has gone to Dublin. She + is tidily and even, for a woman of her age, tastefully dressed, but still + with a sober decency that showed her good sense. Her cap is as white as + snow, with which a well-fitting brown stuff gown, that gave her a highly + respectable appearance, admirably contrasted. She wore an apron of + somewhat coarse muslin, that seemed, as it always did, fresh from the + iron, and her hands were covered with a pair of thread mittens that only + came half-way down the fingers. Hanging at one side was a three-cornered + pincushion of green silk, a proof at once of a character remarkable for + thrift, neatness, and industry. Whilst thus employed, she looks from time + to time through a window that commanded a prospect of the road, and seems + affected by that complacent expression of uneasiness which, whilst it + overshadows the features, never disturbs their benignity. At length, a + good-looking, neat girl, their servant, enters the cottage with a can of + new milk, for she had been to the fields a-milking; her name is Molly + Byrne. + </p> + <p> + “Molly,” said her mistress, “I wonder the master has not come yet. I am + getting uneasy. The coach has gone past, and I see no appearance of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, then, he didn't come by the coach, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he said he would.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am, something must 'a prevented him.” + </p> + <p> + “Molly,” said her mistress, smiling, “you are a good hand at telling us + John Thompson's news; that is, any thing we know ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am, but you know many a time he goes to Dublin, an' doesn't come + home by the coach.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, whenever he visits Rilmainham Hospital, and gets into conversation + with some of his old comrades; however, that's natural, and I hope he's + safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am,” replied Molly, looking out, “I have betther news for you + than Jenny Thompson's now.” + </p> + <p> + “Attention, Molly; John Thompson's the word,” said her mistress, with the + slightest conceivable air of professional form; for if she had a foible at + all, it was that she gave all her orders and exacted all obedience from + her servant in a spirit of military discipline, which she, had + unconsciously borrowed from her husband, whom she imitated as far as she + could. “Where, Molly? Fall back, I say, till I get a peep at dear old + Sam.” + </p> + <p> + “There he is, ma'am,” continued Molly, at the same time obeying her + orders, “and some other person along with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sure enough; thank God, thank God!” she exclaimed. “But who can the + other person be, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, ma'am,” replied Molly. “I only got a glimpse of them, but I + knew the master at once. I would know him round a corner.” + </p> + <p> + “Advance, then, girl; take another look; reconnoitre, Molly, as Sam says, + and see if you can make out who it is.” + </p> + <p> + “I see him now well enough, ma'am,” replied the girl, “but I don't know + him; he's a stranger. What can bring a stranger here, ma'am, do you + think?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Why your kind master, of course, girl; isn't that sufficient? Whoever + comes with my dear old Sam is welcome, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + Her clear, cloudless face was now lit up with a multiplicity of kind and + hospitable thoughts, for dear old Sam and his friend were not more than + three or four perches from the house, and she could perceive that her + husband was in an extraordinary state of good humor. + </p> + <p> + “I know, Molly, who the strange man is now,” she said. “He's an old friend + of my husband's, named Dunphy; he was once in the same regiment with him; + and I know, besides, our own good man has heard some news that has + delighted him very much.” + </p> + <p> + She had scarcely uttered the words when Sam and old Dunphy entered. + </p> + <p> + “Beck, my girl, here I am, safe and sound, and here's an old friend come + to see us, and you know how much we are both indebted to him; I felt, + Beck, and so did you, old girl, that we must have something to love and + provide for, and to keep the heart moving, but that's natural, you know—quite + natural—it's all the heart of man.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dunphy,” said Beck—a curtailment of Rebecca—“I am glad to + see you; take a seat; how is the old woman?” + </p> + <p> + “As tough as ever, Mrs. Roberts. 'Deed I had thought last winter that she + might lave me a loose leg once more; but I don't know how it is, she's + gatherin' strength on my hands, an' a young wife, I'm afraid, isn't on the + cards—ha—ha—ha! And how are you yourself, Mrs. Roberts?—but, + indeed, one may tell with half an eye—fresh and well you look, thank + God!” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't she, man?” exclaimed Sam, slapping him with delight on the + shoulder; “a woman that travelled half the world, and improved in every + climate. Molly, attention!—let us turn in to mess as soon as + possible. Good news, Beck—good news, but not till after mess; + double-quick, Molly.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Molly, double-quick,” added her mistress; “the master and his + friend must be hungry by this time.” + </p> + <p> + Owing to the expeditious habits to which Mrs. Roberts had disciplined + Molly, a smoking Irish stew, hot and savory, was before them in a few + minutes, which the two old fellows attacked with powers of demolition that + would have shamed younger men. There was for some time a very significant + lull in the conversation, during which Molly, by a hint from her mistress, + put down the kettle, an act which, on being observed by Dunphy, made his + keen old eye sparkle with the expectation of what it suggested. Shovelful + after shovelful passed from dish to plate, until a very relaxed action on + the part of each was evident. + </p> + <p> + “Dunphy,” said Sam, “I, believe our fire is beginning to slacken; but + come, let us give the enemy another round, the citadel is nearly won—is + on the point of surrender.” + </p> + <p> + “Begad,” replied Dunphy, who was well acquainted with his friend's + phraseology, and had seen some service, as already intimated, in the same + regiment, some fifty years before. “I must lay down my arms for the + present.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter, friend Dunphy, we'll renew the attack at supper; an easy mind + brings a good appetite, which is but natural; it's all the heart of man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know that,” said Dunphy, replying to, the first of the + axioms; “I have often aiten a hearty dinner enough when my mind was, God + knows, anything but aisy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” rejoined Sam, “when the heart's down, a glass of old stingo, + mixed stiff, will give it a lift; so, my old fellow, if there's anything + wrong with you, we'll soon set it to rights.” + </p> + <p> + The table was now cleared, and the word “Hot wate-r-r,” was given, as if + Molly had been on drill, as in fact, she may be considered to have been + every day in the week; then the sugar and whiskey in the same tone. But + whilst she is preparing and producing the materials, as they have been + since termed, we shall endeavor to give an outline of old Sam. + </p> + <p> + Old Sam, then, was an erect, square-built, fine-looking old fellow, with + firm, massive, but benevolent features; not, however, without a dash of + determination in them that added very considerably to their interest. His + eyes were gray, kind, and lively; his eyebrows rather large, but their + expression was either stern or complacent, according to the mood of the + moment. That of complacency, however, was their general character. Upon + the front part of his head he had received a severe wound, which extended + an inch or so down the side of his forehead, he had also lost the two last + fingers of his left hand, and received several other wounds that were + severe and dangerous when inflicted, but as their scars were covered by + his dress, they were consequently invisible. Sam was at this time close + upon seventy, but so regular had been his habits of life, so cheerful and + kind his disposition, and so excellent his constitution, that he did not + look more than fifty-five. It was utterly impossible not to read the fine + old soldier in every one of his free, but well-disciplined, movements. The + black stock, the bold, erect head, the firm but measured step, and the + existence of something like military ardor in the eye and whole bearing; + or it might be the proud consciousness of having bravely and faithfully + discharged his duty to his king and his country; all this, we say, marked + the man with an impress of such honest pride and frank military spirit, + as, taken into consideration with his fine figure, gave the very <i>beau + ideal</i> of an old soldier. + </p> + <p> + When each had mixed his tumbler, Sam, brimful of the good news to which he + had alluded, filled a small glass, as was his wont, and placing it before + Beck, said: + </p> + <p> + “Come, Beck, attention!—'The king, God bless him!' Attention, + Dunphy!—off with it.” + </p> + <p> + “The king, God bless him!” having been duly honored, Sam proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “Beck, my old partner, I said I had good news for you. Our son and his + regiment—three times eleven, eleven times three—the gallant + thirty-third, are in Dublin.” + </p> + <p> + Beck laid down her stocking, and her eyes sparkled with delight. + </p> + <p> + “But that's not all, old girl, he has risen from the ranks—his + commission has been just made out, and he is now a commissioned officer in + his majesty's service. But I knew it would come to that. Didn't I say so, + old comrade, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you did, Sam,” replied his wife; “and I thought as much myself. + There was something about that boy beyond the common.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you may say that, girl; but who found it out first? Why, I did; but + the thing was natural; it's all the heart of man—when that's in the + right place nothing will go wrong. What do you say, friend Dunphy? Did you + think it would ever come to this?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, I did not, Mr. Roberts; but it's you he may thank for it.” + </p> + <p> + “God Almighty first, Dunphy, and me afterwards. Well, he shan't want a + father, at all events; and so long as I have a few shiners to spare, he + shan't want the means of supporting his rank as a British officer and + gentleman should. There's news for you, Dunphy. Do you hear that, you old + dog—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “It's all the heart of man, Sam,” observed his wife, eying him with + affectionate admiration. “When the heart's in the right place, nothing + will go wrong.” + </p> + <p> + Now, nothing gratified Sam so much as to hear his own apothegms honored by + repetition. + </p> + <p> + “Eight, girl,” he replied; “shake hands for that. Dunphy, mark the truth + of that. Isn't she worth gold, you sinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth she is, Mr. Roberts, and silver to the back o' that.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Sam, looking at him with comic surprise. “What do you mean by + that, you ferret? Why don't you add, and 'brass to the back of that?' By + fife and drum, I won't stand this to Beck. Apologize instantly, sir.” Then + breaking into a hearty laugh—“he meant no offence, Beck,” he added; + “he respects and loves you—I know he does—as who doesn't that + knows you, my girl?” + </p> + <p> + “What I meant to say, Mr. Roberts—” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Roberts, sir; direct the apology to herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, what I wanted to say, Mrs. Roberts, was, that all the gold, + silver, and brass in his majesty's dominions—(God bless him! + parenthetice, from Sam)—couldn't purchase you, an' would fall far + short of your value.” + </p> + <p> + “Well done—thank you, Dunphy—thank you, honest old Dunphy; + shake hands. He's a fine old fellow, Beck, isn't he, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Dunphy; but you overrate me a great + deal too much,” replied Mrs. Roberts. + </p> + <p> + “No such thing, Beck; you're wrong there, for once; the thing couldn't be + done—by fife and drum! it couldn't; and no man has a better right to + know that than myself—and I say it.” + </p> + <p> + Sam, like all truly brave men, never boasted of his military exploits, + although he might well have done so. On the contrary, it was a subject + which he studiously avoided, and on which those who knew his modesty as + well as his pride never ventured. He usually cut short such as referred to + it, with: + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that, my friend; I did my duty, and that was all; and so did + every man in the British army, or I wouldn't be here to say so. Pass the + subject.” + </p> + <p> + Sam and Dunphy, at all events, spent a pleasant evening; at least, beyond + question, Sam did. As for Dunphy, he seemed occasionally relieved by + hearing Sam's warm and affectionate allusions to his son; and, on the + other hand, he appeared, from time to time, to fall into a mood that + indicated a state of feeling between gloom and reflection. + </p> + <p> + “It's extraordinary, Mr. Roberts,” he observed, after awakening from one + of these reveries; “it looks as if Providence was in it.” + </p> + <p> + “God Almighty's in it, sir,—didn't I say so? and under him, Sam + Roberts. Sir, I observed that boy closely from the beginning. He reminded + me, and you too, Beck, didn't he, of him that—that—we lost”—here + he paused a moment, and placed his hand upon his heart, as if to feel for + something there that awoke touching and melancholy remembrances; whilst + his wife, on the other hand, unpinned the locket, and having kissed it, + quietly let fall a few tears; after which she restored it to its former + position. Sam cleared his voice a little, and then proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I could never look at the one without thinking of the other; but + 'twas all the heart of man. In a week's time he could fish as well as + myself, and in a short time began to teach me. 'Gad! he used to take the + rod out of my hand with so much kindness, so gently and respectfully—for, + I mark me, Dunphy, he respected me from the beginning—didn't lie, + Beck?” + </p> + <p> + “He did, indeed, Sam.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Beck; you're a good creature. So gently and respectfully, as I + was saying, and showed me in his sweet words, and with his smiling eyes—yes, + and his hair, too, was the very color of his brother's—I was afraid + I might forget that. Well—yes, with such smiling eyes that it was + impossible not to love him—I couldn't but love him—but, sure, + it was only natural—all the heart of man, Dunphy. 'Ned,' said I to + him one day, 'would you like to become a soldier—a soldier, Ned?'” + And as the old man repeated the word “soldier” his voice became full and + impressive, his eyes sparkled with pride, and his very form seemed to + dilate at the exulting reminiscences and heroic associations connected + with it. + </p> + <p> + “Above all things in this life,” replied the boy; “but you know I'm too + young.” + </p> + <p> + “'Never mind, my boy,' said I, 'that's a fault that every day will mend; + you'll never grow less;' so I consulted with Beck there, and with you, + Dunphy, didn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “You did, indeed, Mr. Roberts, and wouldn't do anything till you had + spoken to me on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight, Dunphy, right—well, you know the rest. 'Education's the + point,' said I to Beck—ignorance is a bad inheritance. What would I + be to-day if I didn't write a good hand, and was a keen accountant! But no + matter, off he went with a decent outfit to honest Mainwairing—thirty + pounds a-year—five years—lost no time—was steady, but + always showed a spirit. Couldn't get him a commission then, for I hadn't + come in for my Uncle's legacy, which I got the other day.—dashed him + into the ranks though—and here he is—a commissioned officer—eh, + old Dunphy! Well, isn't that natural? but it's all the heart of man.” + </p> + <p> + “It's wonderful,” observed Dunphy, ruminating, “it's wonderful indeed. + Well, now, Mr. Roberts, it really is wonderful. I came down here to spake + to you about that very boy, and see the news I have before me. Indeed, it + is wonderful, and the hand o' God is surely in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, Dunphy, that's the word; and under him, in the capacity of agent + in the business, book down Sam Roberts, who's deeply thankful to God for + making him, if I may say so, his adjutant in advancing the boy's + fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see him to-day, Sam?” asked Mrs. Roberts. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Sam, “he wasn't in the barracks, but I'll engage we'll both + see him tomorrow, if he has life, that is, unless he should happen to be + on duty. If he doesn't come to-morrow, however, I'll start the day after + for Dublin.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, Mr. Roberts,” said Dunphy, “if you have no objection, I didn't + care if I turned into bed; I'm not accustomed to travelin', and I'm a + thrifle fatigued; only tomorrow morning, plaise God, I have something to + say to you about that boy that may surprise you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a syllable, Dunphy, nothing about him that could surprise me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the hesitating and cautious old man, “maybe I will + surprise you for all that.” + </p> + <p> + This he said whilst Mrs. Roberts and Molly Byrne were preparing his bed in + one of the neat sleeping rooms which stood off the pleasant kitchen where + they sat; “and listen, Mr. Roberts, before I tell it, you must pledge your + honor as a soldier, that until I give you lave, you'll never breathe a + syllable of what I have to mention to any one, not even to Mrs. Roberts.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that? Keep a secret from Beck? Come, Dunphy, that's what I never + did, unless the word and countersign when on duty, and, by fife and drum, + I never will keep your secret then; I don't want it, for as sure as I hear + it, so shall she. And is it afraid of old Beck you are? By fife and drum, + sir, old Beck has more honor than either of us, and would as soon take a + fancy to a coward as betray a secret. You don't know her, old Dunphy, you + don't know her, or you wouldn't spake as if you feared that she's not + truth and honesty to the backbone.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it, Mr. Roberts, but they say, afther all, that once a woman + gets a secret, she thinks herself in a sartin way, until she's delivered + of it'.” + </p> + <p> + Sam, who liked a joke very well, laughed heartily at this, bad as it was, + or rather he laughed at the shrewd, ludicrous, but satirical grin with + which old Dunphy's face was puckered whilst he uttered it. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said he, resuming his gravity, “Beck, I'd have you to know, is + not like other women, by which I mean that no other woman could be + compared to her. Beck's the queen of women, upon my soul she is; and all I + have to say is, that if you tell me the secret, in half an hour's time + she'll be as well acquainted with it as either of us. I have no notion, + Dunphy, at this time of life, to separate my mind from Beck's; my + conscience, sir, is my store-room; she has a key for it, and, by fife and + drum, I'm not going to take it from her now. Do you think Beck would treat + old Sam so? No. And my rule is, and ever has been, treat your wife with + confidence if you respect her, and expect confidence in your turn. No, no; + poor Beck must have it if I have it. The truth is, I have no secrets, and + never had. I keep none, Dunphy, and that's but natural; however, it's all + the heart of man.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning the two men took an early walk, for both were in the + habit of rising betimes. Dunphy, it would appear, was one of those + individuals, who, if they ever perform a praiseworthy act, do it rather + from weakness of character and fear, than from a principle of + conscientious rectitude. After having gone to bed the previous night he + lay awake for a considerable time debating with himself the purport of his + visit, pro and con, without after all, being able to accomplish a + determination on the subject. He was timid, cunning, shrewd, avaricious, + and possessed, besides, a large portion of that peculiar superstition + which does not restrain from iniquity, although it renders the mind + anxious and apprehensive of the consequences. Now the honest fellow with + whom he had to deal was the reverse of all this in every possible phase of + his character, being candid, conscientious, fearless, and straightforward. + Whatever he felt to be his duty, that he did, regardless of all opinion + and all consequences. He was, in fact, an independent man, because he + always acted from right principles, or rather from right impulses; the + truth being, that the virtuous action was performed before he had allowed + himself time to reason upon it. Every one must have observed that there is + a rare class of men whose feelings, always on the right side, are too + quick for their reason, which they generously anticipate, and have the + proposed virtue completed before either reason or prudence have had time + to argue either for or against the act. Old Sam was one of the latter, and + our readers may easily perceive the contrast which the two individuals + presented. + </p> + <p> + After about an hour's walk both returned to breakfast, and whatever may + have been the conversation that took place between them, or whatever + extent of confidence Dunphy reposed in old Sam, there can be little doubt + that his glee this morning was infinitely greater than on the + preceding-evening, although, at Dunphy's earnest request, considerably + more subdued. Nay, the latter had so far succeeded with old Sam as to + induce him to promise, that for the present at least, he would forbear to + communicate it to his wife. Sam, however, would under no circumstances + promise this until he should first hear the nature of it, upon which, he + said, he would then judge for himself. After hearing it, however, he said + that on Dunphy's own account he would not breathe it even to her without + his permission. + </p> + <p> + “Mind,” said Dunphy, at the conclusion of their dialogue, and with his + usual caution, “I am not sartin of what I have mentioned; but I hope, + plaise God, in a short time to be able to prove it; and, if not, as nobody + knows it but yourself an' me, why there's no harm done. Dear knows, I have + a strong reason for lettin' the matter lie as it is, even if my suspicions + are true; but my conscience isn't aisy, Mr. Eoberts, an' for that raison' + I came to spake to you, to consult with you, and to have your advice.” + </p> + <p> + “And my advice to you is, Dunphy, not to attack the enemy until your plans + are properly laid, and all your forces in a good position. The thing can't + be proved now, you say; very well; you'd be only a fool for attempting to + prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sayin',” said the cautious old sinner again, “that it can be + proved at any time, or proved at all—that is, for a sartinty; but I + think, afther a time, it may. There's a person not now in the country, + that will be back shortly, I hope; and if any one can prove what I + mentioned to you, that person can. I know we'd make a powerful friend by + it, but—” + </p> + <p> + Here he squirted his thin tobacco spittle “out owre his beard,” but added + nothing further. + </p> + <p> + “Dunphy, my fine old fellow,” said Sam, “it was very kind of you to come + to me upon this point. You know the affection I have for the young man; + thank you, Dunphy; but it's natural—it's all the heart of man. + Dunphy, how long is it, now, since you and I messed together in the + gallant eleven times three? Fifty years, I think, Dunphy, or more. You + were a smart fellow then, and became servant, I think, to a young captain—what's + this his name was? oh! I remember—Gourlay; for, Dunphy, I remember + the name of every officer in our regiment, since I entered it; when they + joined, when they exchanged, sold out, or died like brave men in the field + of battle. It's upwards of fifty. By the way, he left us—sold out + immediately after his father's death.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ould Sir Edward—a good man; but he had a woman to his wife, and + if ever there was a divil—Lord bless us!—in any woman, there + was one, and a choice bad one, too, in her. The present barrownight, Sir + Thomas, is as like her as if she had spat him out of her mouth. The poor + ould man, Sir Edward, had no rest night or day, because he wouldn't get + himself made into a lord, or a peer, or some high-flown title of the kind; + and all that she herself might rank as a nobleman's lady, although she was + a 'lady,' by title, as it was, which, God knows, was more than she + desarved, the thief.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, she was different from Beck, Dunphy. Talking of wives, have I not a + right to feel thankful that God in his goodness gifted me with such a + blessing? You don't know what I owe to her, Dunphy. When I was sick and + wounded—I bear the marks of fifteen severe wounds upon me—when + I was in fever, in ague, in jaundice, and several other complaints + belonging to the different countries we were in, there she was—there + she was, Dunphy; but enough said; ay, and in the field of battle, too,” he + added, immediately forgetting himself, “lying like a log, my tongue black + and burning. Oh, yes, Beck's a great creature; that's all, now—that's + all. Come in to breakfast, and now you shall know what a fresh egg means, + for we have lots of poultry.” + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks to you, Mr. Roberts, I and my ould woman know that.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut—nonsense, man; lots of poultry, I say—always a pig or + two, and never without a ham or a flitch, you old dog. Except the welfare + of that boy, we have nothing on earth, thank God, to trouble us; but + that's natural—it's all the heart of man, Dunphy” + </p> + <p> + After having made a luxurious breakfast, Dunphy, who felt that he could + not readily remain away from his little shop, bade this most affectionate + and worthy couple good-by and proceeded on his way home. + </p> + <p> + This hesitating old man felt anything but comfortable since the partial + confidence he had placed in old Sam. It is true, he stated the purport of + his disclosure to him as a contingency that might or might not happen; + thus, as he imagined, keeping himself on the safe side. But in the + meantime, he felt anxious, apprehensive and alarmed, even at the lengths + to which his superstitious fears had driven him; for he felt now that one + class of terrors had only superinduced another, without destroying the + first. But so must it ever be with those timid and pusillanimous villains + who strive to impose upon their consciences, and hesitate between right + and wrong. + </p> + <p> + On his way home, however, he determined to visit the barracks in which the + thirty-third regiment lay, in order, if possible, to get a furtive glance + at the young ensign. In this he was successful. On entering the barrack, + square, he saw a group of officers chatting together on the north side, + and after inquiring from a soldier if Ensign Roberts was among them, he + was answered in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “There he is,” said the man, “standing with a whip in his hand—that + tall, handsome young fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Dunphy, who was sufficiently near to get a clear view of him, was + instantly struck by his surprising resemblance to Miss Gourlay, whom he + had often seen in town. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. Interview between Trailcudgel and the Stranger + </h2> + <h3> + —A Peep at Lord Dunroe and His Friend. + </h3> + <p> + It was on the morning that Sir Thomas Gourlay had made the disastrous + discovery of the flight of his daughter—for he had not yet heard the + spreading rumor of the imaginary elopement—that the stranger, on his + way from Father M'Mahon's to the Mitre, was met in a lonely part of the + road, near the priest's house, by a man of huge stature and savage + appearance. He was literally in rags; and his long beard, gaunt features, + and eyes that glared as if with remorse, distraction, or despair, + absolutely constituted him an alarming as well as a painful spectacle. As + he approached the stranger, with some obvious and urgent purpose, trailing + after him a weapon that resembled the club of Hercules, the latter paused + in his step and said, + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you, my good fellow? You seem agitated. Do you + want anything with me? Stand back, I will permit you to come no nearer, + till I know your purpose. I am armed.” + </p> + <p> + The wretched man put his hand upon his eyes, and groaned as if his heart + would burst, and for some moments was unable to make any reply. + </p> + <p> + “What can this mean?” thought the stranger; “the man's features, though + wild and hollow, are not those of a ruffian.” + </p> + <p> + “My good friend,” he added, speaking in a milder tone, “you seem + distressed. Pray let me know what is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be angry with me,” replied the man, addressing him with dry, + parched lips, whilst his Herculean breast heaved up and down with + agitation; “I didn't intend to do it, or to break in upon it, but now I + must, for it's life or death with the three that's left me; and I durstn't + go into the town to ask it there. I have lost four already. Maybe, sir, + you could change this pound note for me? For the sake of the Almighty, do; + as you hope for mercy don't refuse me. That's all I ask. I know that you + stop in the inn in the town there above—that you're a friend of our + good priest's—and that you are well spoken of by every one.” + </p> + <p> + Now, it fortunately happened that the stranger had, on leaving the inn, + put thirty shillings of silver in his pocket, not only that he might + distribute through the hands of Father M'Mahon some portion of assistance + to the poor whom that good man had on his list of distress, but visit some + of the hovels on his way back, in order personally to witness their + condition, and, if necessary, relieve them. The priest, however, was from + home, and he had not an opportunity of carrying the other portion of his + intentions into effect, as he was only a quarter of a mile from the good + man's residence, and no hovels of the description he wished to visit had + yet presented themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Change for a pound!” he exclaimed, with a good deal of surprise. “Why, + from your appearance, poor fellow, I should scarcely suspect to find such + a sum in your possession. Did you expect to meet me here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I was on my way to the priest, to open my heart to him, for if I + don't, I know I'll be ragin' mad before forty-eight hours. Oh, sir, if you + have it, make haste; every minute may cost me a life that's dearer to me a + thousand times than my own. Here's the note, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger took the note out of his hand, and on looking at the face of + it made no observation, but, upon mechanically turning up the back, + apparently without any purpose of examining it, he started, looked keenly + at the man, and seemed sunk in the deepest possible amazement, not + unrelieved, however, by an air of satisfaction. The sudden and mysterious + disappearance of Fenton, taken in connection with the discovery of the + note which he himself had given him, and now in the possession of a man + whose appearance was both desperate and suspicious, filled him with + instant apprehensions for the safety of Fenton. + </p> + <p> + His brow instantly became stern, and in a voice full of the most + unequivocal determination, he said, + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, how did you come by this note?” + </p> + <p> + “By the temptation of the devil; for although it was in my possession, it + didn't save my two other darlins from dying. A piece of a slate would be + as useful as it was, for I couldn't change it—I durstn't.” + </p> + <p> + “You committed a robbery for this note, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The man glared at him with something like incipient fury, but paused, and + looking on him with a more sorrowful aspect, replied, + </p> + <p> + “That is what the world will call it, I suppose; but if you wish to get + anything out of me, change the tone of your voice. I haven't at the + present time, much command over my temper, and I'm now a desperate man, + though I wasn't always so. Either give me the change or the note back + again.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger eyed him closely. Although desperate, as he said, still there + were symptoms of an honest and manly feeling, even in the very bursts of + passion which he succeeded with such effort in restraining. + </p> + <p> + “I repeat it, that this note came into your hands by an act of robbery—perhaps + of murder.” + </p> + <p> + “Murder!” replied the man, indignantly. “Give me back the note, sir, and + provoke me no farther.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the other, “I shall not; and you must consider yourself my + prisoner. You not only do not deny, but seem to admit, the charge of + robbery, and you shall not pass out of my hands until you render me an + account of the person from whom you took this note. You see,” he added, + producing a case of pistols—for, in accordance with the hint he had + received in the anonymous note, he resolved never to go out without them—“I + am armed, and that resistance is useless.” + </p> + <p> + The man gave a proud but ghastly smile, as he replied—dropping his + stick, and pulling from his bosom a pair of pistols much larger, and more + dangerous than those of the stranger, + </p> + <p> + “You see, that if you go to that I have the advantage of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” I repeat, “what has become of Mr. Fenton, from whom you took + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Fenton!” exclaimed the other, with surprise; “is that the poor young man + that's not right in his head?” + </p> + <p> + “The same.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know nothing about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not rob him of this note?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You did, sir; this note was in his possession; and I fear you have + murdered him I besides. You must come with me,”—and as he spoke, our + friend, Trailcudgel, saw two pistols, one in each hand, levelled at him. + “Get on before me, sir, to the town of Ballytrain, or, resist at your + peril.” + </p> + <p> + Almost at the same moment the two pistols, taken from Sir Thomas Gourlay, + were levelled at the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the man, whilst his eyes shot fire and his brow darkened, “if + it must be, it must; I only want the sheddin' of blood to fill up my + misery and guilt; but it seems I'm doomed, and I can't help it. Sir,” said + he, “think of yourself. If I submit to become your prisoner, my life's + gone. You don't know the villain you are goin' to hand me over to. I'm not + afraid of you, nor of anything, but to die a disgraceful death through his + means, as I must do.” + </p> + <p> + “I will hear no reasoning on the subject,” replied the other; “go on + before me.” + </p> + <p> + The man kept his pistols presented, and there they stood, looking sternly + into each other's faces, each determined not to yield, and each, probably, + on the brink of eternity. + </p> + <p> + At length the man dropped the muzzles of the weapons, and holding them + reversed, approached the stranger, saying, in a voice and with an + expression of feeling that smote the other to the heart, + </p> + <p> + “I will be conqueror still, sir! Instead of goin' with you, you will come + with me. There are my pistols. Only come to a house of misery and sorrow + and death, and you will know all.” + </p> + <p> + “This is not treachery,” thought the stranger. “There can be no mistaking + the anguish—the agony—of that voice; and those large tears + bear no testimony to the crime of murder or robbery.” + </p> + <p> + “Take my pistols, sir,” the other repeated, “only follow me.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the stranger, “keep them: I fear you not—and what is + more, I do not now even suspect you. Here are thirty shillings in silver—but + you must allow me to' keep this note.” + </p> + <p> + We need not describe anew the scene to which poor Trailcudgel introduced + him. It is enough to say, that since his last appearance in our pages he + had lost two more of his children, one by famine and the other by fever; + and that when the stranger entered his hovel—that libel upon a human + habitation—that disgrace to landlord inhumanity—he saw + stretched out in the stillness of death the emaciated bodies of not less + than four human beings—to wit, this wretched man's wife, their + daughter, a sweet girl nearly grown,—and two little ones. The + husband and father looked at them for a little, and the stranger saw a + singular working or change, taking place on his features. At length he + clasped his hands, and first smiled—then laughed outright, and + exclaimed, “Thank God that they,” pointing to the dead, “are saved from + any more of this,”—but the scene—the effort at composure—the + sense of his guilt—the condition of the survivors—exhaustion + from want of food, all combined, overcame him, and he fell senseless on + the floor. + </p> + <p> + The stranger got a porringer of water, bathed his temples, opened his + teeth with an old knife, and having poured some of it down his throat, + dragged him—and it required all his strength to do so, although a + powerful man—over to the cabin-door, in order to get him within the + influence of the fresh air. At length he recovered, looked wildly about + him, then gazed up in the face of the stranger, and made one or two deep + respirations. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said he, “I remember—set me sittin' upon this little ditch + beside the door—but no, no—” he added, starting—“come + away—I must get them food—come—quick, quick, and I will + tell you as we go along.” + </p> + <p> + He then repeated the history of his ruin by Sir Thomas Gourlay, of the + robbery, and of the scene of death and destitution which drove him to it. + </p> + <p> + “And was it from Sir Thomas you got this note?” asked the stranger, whose + interest was now deeply excited. + </p> + <p> + “From him I got it, sir; as I tould you,” he replied, “and I was on my way + to the priest to give him up the money and the pistols, when the situation + of my children, of my family of the livin' and the dead, overcame me, and + I was tempted to break in upon one pound of it for their sakes. Sir, my + life's in your hands, but there is something in your face that tells my + heart that you won't betray me, especially afther what you have seen.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger had been a silent and attentive listener to this narrative, + and after he had ceased he spoke not for some time. He then added, + emphatically but quickly, and almost abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “Don't fear me, my poor fellow. Your secret is as safe as if you had never + disclosed it. Here are other notes for you, and in the meantime place + yourself in the hands of your priest, and enable him to restore Sir Thomas + Gourlay his money and his pistols, I shall see you and your family again.” + </p> + <p> + The man viewed the money, looked at him for a moment, burst into tears, + and hurried away, without saying a word, to procure food for himself and + his children. + </p> + <p> + Our readers need not imagine for a moment that the scenes with which we + have endeavored to present them, in,the wretched hut of Trailcudgel, are + at all overdrawn. In point of fact, they fall far short of thousands which + might have been witnessed, and were witnessed, during the years of '47, + '48, '49, and this present one of '50. We are aware that so many as + twenty-three human beings, of all ages and sexes, have been found by + public officers, all lying on the same floor, and in the same bed—if + bed it can be termed—nearly one-fourth of them stiffened and putrid + corpses. The survivors weltering in filth, fever, and famine, and so + completely maddened by despair, delirium, and the rackings of intolerable + pain, in its severest shapes—aggravated by thirst and hunger—that + all the impulses of nature and affection were not merely banished from the + heart, but superseded by the most frightful peals of insane mirth, + cruelty, and the horrible appetite of the ghoul and vampire. Some were + found tearing the flesh from the bodies of the carcasses that were + stretched beside them. Mothers tottered off under the woful excitement of + misery and frenzy, and threw their wretched children on the sides of the + highways, leaving them there, with shouts of mirth and satisfaction, to + perish or be saved, as the chances might turn out—whilst fathers + have been known to make a wolfish meal upon the dead bodies of their own + offspring. We might, therefore, have carried on our description up to the + very highest point of imaginable horror, without going beyond the truth. + </p> + <p> + It is well for the world that the schemes and projects of ambition depend + not in their fulfilment upon the means and instruments with which they are + sought to be accomplished. Had Sir Thomas Gourlay, for instance, not + treated his daughter with such brutal cruelty, an interview must have + taken place between her and Lord Cullamore, which would, as a matter of + course, have put an end forever to her father's hopes of the high rank for + which he was so anxious to sacrifice her. The good old nobleman, failing + of the interview he had expected, went immediately to London, with a hope, + among other objects, of being in some way useful to his son, whom he had + not seen for more than two years, the latter having been, during that + period, making the usual tour of the Continent. + </p> + <p> + On the second day of his arrival, and after he had in some degree + recovered from the effects of the voyage—by which, on the whole, he + was rather improved—he resolved to call upon Dunroe, in pursuance of + a note which he had written to him to that effect, being unwilling besides + to take him unawares. Before he arrives, however, we shall take the + liberty of looking in upon his lordship, and thus enable ourselves to form + some opinion of the materials which constituted that young nobleman's + character and habits. + </p> + <p> + The accessories to these habits, as exponents of his life and character, + were in admirable keeping with both, and a slight glance at them will be + sufficient for the reader. + </p> + <p> + His lordship, who kept a small establishment of his own, now lies in a + very elegantly furnished bedroom, with a table beside his bed, on which + are dressings for his wound, phials of medicines, some loose comedies, and + a volume still more objectionable in point both of taste and morals. + Beside him is a man, whether young or of the middle age it is difficult to + say. At the first glance, his general appearance, at least, seemed rather + juvenile, but after a second—and still more decidedly after a third—it + was evident to the spectator that he could not be under forty. He was + dressed in quite a youthful style, and in the very extreme of fashion. + This person's features were good, regular, absolutely symmetrical; yet was + there that in his countenance which you could not relish. The face, on + being examined, bespoke the life of a battered rake; for although the + complexion was or had been naturally good, it was now set in too high a + color for that of a young man, and was hardened into a certain appearance + which is produced on some features by the struggle that takes place + between dissipation and health. The usual observation in such cases is—“with + what a constitution has that man been blessed on whose countenance the + symptoms of a hard life are so slightly perceptible.” The symptoms, + however, are there in every case, as they were on his. This man's + countenance, we say, at the first glance, was good, and his eye seemed + indicative of great mildness and benignity of heart—yet here, again, + was a drawback, for, upon a stricter examination of that organ, there + might be read in it the expression of a spirit that never permitted him to + utter a single word that was not associated with some selfish calculation. + Add to this, that it was unusually small and feeble, intimating duplicity + and a want of moral energy and candor. In the mere face, therefore, there + was something which you could not like, and which would have prejudiced + you, as if by instinct, against the man, were it not that the pliant and + agreeable tone of his conversation, in due time, made you forget + everything except the fact that Tom Norton was a most delightful fellow, + with not a bit of selfishness about him, but a warm and friendly wish to + oblige and serve every one of his acquaintances, as far as he could, and + with the greatest good-will in the world. But Tom's excellence did not + rest here. He was disinterested, and frequently went so far as almost + actually to quarrel with some of his friends on their refusing to be + guided by his advice and experience. Then, again, Tom was generous and + delicate, for on finding that his dissuasions against some particular + course had been disregarded, and the consequences he had predicted had + actually followed, he was too magnanimous ever to harass them by useless + expostulations or vain reproofs; such as—“I told you how it would + happen”—“I advised you in time”—“you would not listen to + reason”—and other posthumous apothegms of the same character. No, on + the contrary, he maintained a considerate and gentlemanly silence on the + subject—a circumstance which saved them from the embarrassment of + much self-defence, or a painful admission of their error—and not + only satisfied them that Tom was honest and unselfish, but modest and + forbearing. It is true, that an occasional act or solecism of manner, + somewhat at variance with the conventional usages of polite society, and + an odd vulgarism of expression, were slight blemishes which might be + brought to his charge, and would probably have told against any one else. + But it was well known that Mr. Norton admitted himself to be a Connaught + gentleman, with some of the rough habits of his country, as well of manner + as of phraseology, about him; and it was not to be expected that a + Connemara gentleman, no matter how high his birth and connection, could at + once, or at all, divest himself of these piquant and agreeable + peculiarities. + </p> + <p> + So much for Tom, who had been for at least a couple of years previous to + his present appearance fairly domesticated with his lordship, acting not + only as his guide, philosopher, and friend, but actually as major-domo, or + general steward of the establishment, even condescending to pay the + servants, and kindly undertaking to rescue his friend, who was ignorant of + business, from the disagreeable trouble of coming in contact with + tradesmen, and making occasional disbursements in matters of which Lord + Dunroe knew little or nothing. Tom was indeed a most invaluable friend, + and his lordship considered it a very fortunate night on which they first + became acquainted; for, although he lost to the tune of five hundred + pounds to him in one of the most fashionable gaming-houses of London, yet, + as a compensation—and more than a compensation—for that loss, + he gained Tom in return. + </p> + <p> + His lordship was lying on one side in bed, with the Memoirs of ——— + on the pillow beside him, when Tom, who had only entered a few minutes + before, on looking at the walls of the apartment, exclaimed, “What the + deuce is this, my lord? Are you aware that your father will be here in a + couple of hours from this time?” and he looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ay; the old peer,” replied his lordship, in a languid voice, “coming + as a missionary to reform the profane and infidel. I wish he would let me + alone, and subscribe to the Missionary Society at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Dunroe, are you asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Very nearly, I believe. I wish I was.” + </p> + <p> + “But what's to be done with certain of these pictures? You don't intend + his lordship should see them, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “No; certainly not, Tom. We must have them removed. Will you see about it, + Tom, like a good fellow? Stow them, however, in some safe place, where + they won't be injured.” + </p> + <p> + “Those five must go,” said Norton. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied his lordship, “let the Magdalen stay; it will look like a + tendency to repentance, you know, and the old peer may like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Dunroe, my dear fellow, you know I make no pretence to religion; but I + don't relish the tone in which you generally speak of that most + respectable old nobleman, your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you, Tom? Well, but, I say, the idea of a most respectable old + nobleman is rather a shabby affair. It's merely the privilege of age, Tom. + I hope I shall never live to be termed a most respectable old nobleman. + Pshaw, my dear Tom, it is too much. It's a proof that he wants character.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, in the mean time, Dunroe, that you and I had as much of that same + commodity as the good old peer could spare us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose you do, Tom; I dare say. My sister is coming with him + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; so he says in the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose I must endure that also; an aristocratic lecture on the + one hand, and the uncouth affections of a hoiden on the other. It's hard + enough, though.” + </p> + <p> + Tom now rang the bell, and in a few moments a servant entered. + </p> + <p> + “Wilcox,” said Norton, “get Taylor and M'Intyre to assist you in removing + those five pictures; place them carefully in the green closet, which you + will lock.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, carefully, Wilcox,” said his lordship; “and afterwards give the key + to Mr. Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the paintings were removed, and the conversation began + where it had been left off. + </p> + <p> + “This double visit, Tom, will be a great bore. I wish I could avoid it—philosophized + by the father, beslobbered by the sister—faugh!” + </p> + <p> + “These books, too, my lord, had better be put aside, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose so; lock them in that drawer.” + </p> + <p> + Norton did so, and then proceeded. “Now, my dear Dunroe—” + </p> + <p> + “Tom,” said his lordship, interrupting him, “I know what you are going to + say—try and put yourself into something like moral trim for the old + peer—is not that it? Do you know, Tom, I have some thoughts of + becoming religious? What is religion, Tom? You know we were talking about + it the other day. You said it was a capital thing for the world—that + it sharpened a man, and put him up to anything, and so on.” + </p> + <p> + “What has put such a notion into your head now, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—nothing, I believe. Can religion be taught, Tom? Could + one, for instance, take lessons in it?” + </p> + <p> + “For what purpose do you propose it, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—for two or three purposes, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Will your lordship state them?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Tom, I should wish to do the old peer; and touching the baronet's + daughter, who is said to be very conscientious—which I suppose means + the same thing as religion—I should wish to—” + </p> + <p> + “To do her too,” added Norton, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe so; but I forget. Don't the pas'ns teach it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord, by precept, most of them do; not so many by example.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's the theory only I want. You don't suppose I intend to practice + religion, Tom, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord, I have a different opinion of your principles.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you hire me a pas'n, to give lessons in it—say two a week—I + shall require to know something of it; for, my dear Tom, you are not to be + told that twelve thousand a year, and a beautiful girl, are worth making + an effort for. It is true she—Miss Gourlay, I mean—is not to + be spoken of in comparison with the cigar-man's daughter; but then, twelve + thousand a year, Tom—and the good old peer is threatening to curtail + my allowance. Or stay, Tom, would hypocrisy do as well as religion?” + </p> + <p> + “Every bit, my lord, so far as the world goes. Indeed, in point of fact, + it requires a very keen eye to discover the difference between them. For + one that practises religion, I there are five thousand who practise + hypocrisy.” + </p> + <p> + “Could I get lessons in hypocrisy? Are there men set apart to teach it? + Are there, for instance, professors of hypocrisy as there are of music and + dancing?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly, my lord; but many of the professors of religion come very + nearly to the same point.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that, Tom? Explain it, like a good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why a great number of them deal in both—that is to say, they teach + the one by their doctrine, and the other by their example. In different + words, they inculcate religion to others, and practise hypocrisy + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “I see—that is clear. Then, Tom, as they—the pas'ns I mean—are + the best judges of the matter, of course hypocrisy must be more useful + than religion, or they—and such! an immense majority as you say—would + not practise it.” + </p> + <p> + “More useful it unquestionably is, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in that case, Tom, try and find me out a good hypocrite, a sound + fellow, who properly understands the subject, and I will take lessons from + him. My terms will be! liberal, say—” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately for your lordship, there are no professors to be had; but, + as I said, it comes to the same thing. Engage a professor of religion, and + whilst you pretend to study his doctrine, make a point also to study his + life, and ten to one but you will close! your studies admirably qualified + to take a degree in hypocrisy, if there were such an honor, and that you + wish to imitate your teacher. Either that, my lord, or it may tend to cure + you of a leaning toward hypocrisy as long as you live.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wish I could make some progress in either one or the other, it + matters not which, provided it be easier to learn, and more useful. We + must think about it, Tom. You will remind me, of course. Was Sir George + here to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord, but he sent to inquire.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor Lord Jockeyville?” + </p> + <p> + “He drove tandem to the door, but didn't come in. The other members of our + set have been tolerably regular in their inquiries, especially since they + were undeceived as to the danger of your wound.” + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Norton, that was a d——d cool fellow that pinked + me; he did the thing in quite a self-possessed and gentlemanly way, too. + However it was my own fault; I forced him into it. You must know I had + reason to suppose that he was endeavoring to injure me in a certain + quarter; in short, that he had made some progress in the affections of + Lucy Gourlay. I saw the attentions he paid to her at Paris, when I was + sent to the right about. In short—but hang it—there—that + will do—let us talk no more about it—I escaped narrowly—that + is all.” + </p> + <p> + “And I must leave you, my lord, for I assure you I have many things to + attend to. Those creditors are unreasonable scoundrels, and must be put + off with soft words and hard promises for some time longer. That Irish + wine-merchant of yours, however, is a model to every one of his tribe.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is because he knows the old peer. Do you know, Tom, after all, I + don't think it so disreputable a thing to be termed a respectable old + nobleman; but still it indicates want of individual character. Now Tom, I + think I have a character. I mean an original character. Don't every one + almost say—I allude, of course, to every one of sense and + penetration—Dunroe's a character—quite an original—an + enigma—a sphinx—an inscription that cannot be deciphered—an + illegible dog—eh—don't they, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a doubt of it, my lord. Even I, who ought to know you so well, can + make nothing of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but after all, Tom, my father's name overshadows a great number of + my venialities. Dunroe is wild, they say, but then he is the son of a most + respectable old nobleman; and so, many of them shrug and pity, when they + would otherwise assail and blame.” + </p> + <p> + “And I hope to live long enough to see you a most respectable old + 'character' yet, my dear Dunroe. I must go as your representative to these + d——-d ravenous duns. But mark me, comport yourself in your + father's and sister's presence as a young man somewhat meditating upon the + reformation of his life, so that a favorable impression may be made here, + and a favorable report reach the baronet's fair daughter. <i>Au revoir</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. Interview between Lords Cullamore, Dunroe, and Lady Emily + </h2> + <h3> + —Tom Norton's Aristocracy fails Him—His Reception by Lord + Cullamore. + </h3> + <p> + At the hour appointed, Lord Dunroe's father and sister arrived. The old + peer, as his son usually, but not in the most reverential spirit, termed + him, on entering his sleeping chamber, paused for a moment in the middle + of the room, as if to ascertain his precise state of health; but his + sister, Lady Emily, with all the warmth of a young and affectionate heart, + pure as the morning dew-drop, ran to his bedside, and with tears in her + eyes, stooped down and kissed him, exclaiming at the same time, + </p> + <p> + “My dear Dunroe; but no—I hate those cold and formal titles—they + are for the world, but not for brother and sister. My dear John, how is + your wound? Thank God, it is not dangerous, I hear. Are you better? Will + you soon be able to rise? My dear brother, how I was alarmed on hearing + it; but there is another kiss to help to cure you.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Emily, what the deuce are you about? I tell you I have a + prejudice against kissing female relations. It is too tame, and somewhat + of a bore, child, especially to a sick man.” + </p> + <p> + His father now approached him with a grave, but by no means an unfeeling + countenance, and extending his hand, said, “I fear, John, that this has + been a foolish business; but I am glad to find that, so far as your + personal danger was concerned, you have come off so safely. How do you + find yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Rapidly recovering, my lord, I thank you. At first they considered the + thing serious; but the bullet only grazed the rib slightly, although the + flesh wound was, for a time, troublesome enough. I am now, however, free + from fever, and the wound is closing fast.” + </p> + <p> + “Whilst this brief dialogue took place, Lady Emily sat on a chair by the + bedside, her large, brilliant eyes no longer filled with tears, but open + with astonishment, and we may as well add with pain, at the utter + indifference with which her brother received her affectionate caresses. + After a few moments' reflection, however, her generous heart supposed it + had discovered his apology. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” thought the sweet girl, “I had forgotten his wound, and of course I + must have occasioned him great pain, which his delicacy placed to a + different motive. He did not wish to let me know that I had hurt him.” And + her countenance again beamed with the joy of an innocent and unsuspecting + spirit. + </p> + <p> + “But, Dunroe,” she said—“John, I mean, won't you soon be able to get + up, and to walk about, or, at all events, to take an airing with us in the + carriage? Will you not, dear John?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I hope so, Emily. By the way, Emily, you have grown quite a woman + since I saw you last. It is now better than two years, I think, since + then.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you like the Continent, John?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear girl, how is this? What sympathy can you feel with the + experience of a young fellow like me on the Continent? When you know the + world better, my dear girl, you will feel the impropriety of asking such a + question. Pray be seated, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Cullamore sat, as if unconsciously, in an arm-chair beside the table + on which were placed his son's dressings and medicines, and resting his + head on his hand for a moment, as if suffering pain, at length raised it, + and said, + </p> + <p> + “No, Dunroe; no. I trust my innocent girl will never live to feel the + impropriety of asking a question so natural?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I hope not, my lord, with all my heart,” replied Dunroe. “Have + you been presented, Emily? Have you been brought out?” + </p> + <p> + “She has been presented,” said her father, “but not brought out; nor is it + my intention, in the obvious sense of that word, that she ever shall.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, your lordship perhaps has a tendency to Popery, then, and there is a + convent in the background? Is that it, my good lord?” he asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied his father, who could not help smiling in return, “not at + all, John. Emily will not require to be brought out, nor paraded through + the debasing formalities of fashion. She shall not be excluded from + fashion, certainly; but neither shall I suffer her to run the vulgar + gauntlet of heartless dissipation, which too often hardens, debases, and + corrupts. But a truce to this; the subject is painful to me; let us change + it.” + </p> + <p> + The last observation of Dunroe to his sister startled her so much that she + blushed deeply, and looked with that fascinating timidity which is ever + associated with innocence and purity from her brother to her father. + </p> + <p> + “Have I said anything wrong, papa?” she asked, when Lord Cullamore had + ceased to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my love, nothing, but precisely what was natural and right. + Dunroe's reply, however, was neither the one nor the other, and he ought + to have known it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well now, Emily,” said her brother, “I don't regret it, inasmuch as it + has enabled me to satisfy myself upon a point which I have frequently + heard disputed—that is, whether a woman is capable of blushing or + not. Now I have seen you blush with my own eyes, Emily; nay, upon my + honor, you blush again this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Dunroe,” observed his father, “you are teasing your sister; forbear.” + </p> + <p> + “But don't you see, my lord,” persisted his son, “the absolute necessity + for giving her a course of fashionable life, if it were only to remove + this constitutional blemish. If it were discovered, she is ruined; to + blush being, as your lordship knows, contrary to all the laws and statutes + of fashion in that case made and provided.” + </p> + <p> + “Dunroe,” said his father, “I intend you shall spend part of the summer + and all the autumn in Ireland, with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, John, you must come,” said his sister, clapping her snow-white + hands in exultation at the thought. “It will be so delightful.” + </p> + <p> + “Ireland!” exclaimed Dunroe, with well-feigned surprise; “pray where is + that, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, John,” said his father, smiling; “be serious.” + </p> + <p> + “Ireland!” he again exclaimed; “oh, by the way, that's an island, I think, + in the Pacific—is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied his father; “a more inappropriate position you could not + have possibly found for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not that the happy country where the people live without food? Where + they lead a life of independence, and starve in such an heroic spirit?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Dunroe,” said his father, seriously, “never sport with the + miseries of a people, especially when that people are your own + countrymen.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” he replied, disregarding the rebuke he had received, “for + Heaven's sake conceal that disgraceful fact. Remember, I am a young + nobleman; call me profligate—spendthrift—debauchee—anything + you will but an Irishman. Don't the Irish refuse beef and mutton, and take + to eating each other? What can be said of a people who, to please their + betters, practise starvation as their natural pastime, and dramatize + hunger to pamper their most affectionate lords and masters, who, whilst + the latter witness the comedy, make the performers pay for their tickets? + And yet, although the cannibal system flourishes, I fear they find it + anything but a Sandwich island.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Lady Emily, in a whisper, and with tears in her eyes, “I fear + John's head is a little unsettled by his illness.” + </p> + <p> + “You will injure yourself, my dear Dunroe,” said his father, “if you talk + so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, my good lord and father. But I think I recollect one of their + bills of performance, which runs thus: 'On Saturday, the 25th inst., a + tender and affectionate father, stuffed by so many cubic feet of cold + wind, foul air, all resulting from extermination and the benevolence of a + humane landlord, will in the very wantonness of repletion, feed upon, the + dead body of his own child—for which entertaining performance he + will have the satisfaction, subsequently, of enacting with success the + interesting character of a felon, and be comfortably lodged at his + Majesty's expense in the jail of the county.' Why, my lord, how could you + expect me to acknowledge such a country? However, I must talk to Tom + Norton about this. He was born in the country you speak of—and yet + Tom has an excellent appetite; eats like other people; abhors starvation; + and is no cannibal. It is true, I have frequently seen him ready enough to + eat a fellow—a perfect raw-head-and-bloody-bones—for which + reason, I suppose, the principle, or instinct, or whatever you call it, is + still latent in his constitution. But, on the other hand, whenever Tom + gnashed his teeth at any one <i>a la cannibale</i>, if the other gnashed + his teeth at him, all the cannibal disappeared, and Tom was quite + harmless.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This alludes to a dreadful fact of cannibalism, which + occurred in the South of Ireland in 1846. +</pre> + <p> + “By the way, Dunroe,” said his father, “who is this Tom Norton you speak + of?” + </p> + <p> + “He is my most particular friend, my lord—my companion—and + traveled with me over the Continent. He is kind enough to take charge of + my affairs: he pays my servants, manages my tradesmen—and, in short, + is a man whom I could not do without. He's up to everything; and is + altogether indispensable to me.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Cullamore paused for some time, and seemed for a moment absorbed in + some painful reflection or reminiscence. At length he said, + </p> + <p> + “This man, Dunroe, must be very useful to you, if he be what you have just + described him. Does he also manage your correspondence?” + </p> + <p> + “He does, my lord; and is possessed of my most unlimited confidence. In + fact, I could never get on without him. My affairs are in a state of the + most inextricable confusion, and were it not for his sagacity and + prudence, I could scarcely contrive to live at all. Poor Tom; he abandoned + fine prospects in order to devote himself to my service.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a friend must be invaluable, John,” observed his sister. “They say a + friend, a true friend, is the rarest thing in the world; and when one + meets such a friend, they ought to appreciate him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, Emily,” said the Earl; “very true, indeed.” He spoke, however, + as if in a state of abstraction. “Norton!—Norton. Do you know, John, + who he is? Anything of his origin or connections?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever,” replied Dunroe; “unless that he is well connected—he + told me so himself—too well, indeed, he hinted, to render the + situation of a dependent one which he should wish his relatives to become + acquainted with—Of course, I respected his delicacy, and did not, + consequently, press him further upon the point.” + </p> + <p> + “That was considerate on your part,” replied the Earl, somewhat dryly; + “but if he be such as you have described him, I agree with Emily in + thinking he must be invaluable. And now, John, with respect to another + affair—but perhaps this interview may be injurious to your health. + Talking much, and the excitement attending it, may be bad, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not easily excited, my lord,” replied Dunroe; “rather a cool fellow; + unless, indeed, when I used to have duns to meet. But now Norton manages + all that for me. Proceed, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but, John,” observed Lady Emily, “don't let affection for papa and + me allow you to go beyond your strength.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Emily; I am all right, if this wound were healed, as it will + soon be. Proceed, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, my dear Dunroe, I am anxious you should know that I have had + a long conversation with Sir Thomas Gourlay, upon the subject of your + marriage with his beautiful and accomplished daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Black Baronet; a confounded old scoundrel by all accounts.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, sir,” said the Earl, sternly, “that he is father to your + future wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Devilish sorry for it, my lord. I wish Lucy was daughter to any one else—but + it matters not; I am not going to marry the black fellow, but twelve + thousand a year and a pretty girl. I know a prettier, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, John,” replied Lady Emily, with enthusiasm. “I really think + Lucy Gourlay the most lovely girl I have ever seen—the most amiable, + the most dignified, the most,accomplished, the most—dear John, how + happy I shall be to call her sister!” + </p> + <p> + “Dunroe,” proceeded his father, “I beg you consider this affair seriously—solemnly—the + happiness of such a girl as Lucy Grourlay is neither to be sported with + nor perilled. You will have much to reform before you can become worthy of + her. I now tell you that the reformation must be effected, sincerely and + thoroughly, before I shall ever give my consent to your union with her. + There must be neither dissimulation nor hypocrisy on your part. Your + conduct must speak for you, and I must, from the clearest evidence, be + perfectly satisfied that in marrying you she is not wrecking her peace and + happiness, by committing them to a man who is incapable of appreciating + her, or who is insensible to what is due to her great and shining + virtues.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be dreadful, John,” said his sister, “if she should not feel + happy. But if John, papa, requires reformation, I am sure he will reform + for Lucy's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “He ought to reform from a much higher principle, my dear child,” replied + her father. + </p> + <p> + “And so he will, papa. Will you not, dear brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honor, my lord,” said Dunroe, “I had a conversation this very + morning upon the subject with Tom Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it, my dear son. It is not too late—it is never + too late—to amend the life; but in this instance there is an event + about to take place which renders a previous reformation, in its truest + sense, absolutely indispensable.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” he replied, “the truth is, I am determined to try a course of + religion. Tom Norton tells me it is the best thing in the world to get + through life with.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom Norton might have added that it is a much better thing to get through + death with,” added the Earl, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “But he appears to understand it admirably, my lord,” replied Dunroe. “He + says it quickens a man's intellects, and not only prevents him from being + imposed upon by knaves and sharpers, but enables him, by putting on a long + face, and using certain cabalistic phrases, to overreach—no, not + exactly that, but to—let me see, to steer a safe course through the + world; or something to that effect. He says, too, that religious folks + always come best off, and pay more attention to the things of this life, + than any one else; and that, in consequence, they thrive and prosper under + it. No one, he says, gets credit so freely as a man that is supposed to be + religious. Now this struck me quite forcibly, as a thing that might be + very useful to me in getting out of my embarrassments. But then, it would + be necessary to go to church, I believe—to pray—sing psalms—read + the Bible—and subscribe to societies of some kind or other. Now all + that would be very troublesome. How does a person pray, my lord? Is it by + repeating the Ten Commandments, or reading a religious book?” + </p> + <p> + Despite the seriousness of such a subject, Lord Cullamore and his + daughter, on glancing at each other, could scarcely refrain from smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I can't see,” proceeded Dunroe, “how either the one or the other of + the said commandments would sharpen a man for the world, as Tom Norton's + religion does.” + </p> + <p> + The good old Earl thought either that his son was affecting an ignorance + on the subject which he did not feel, or that his ignorance was in reality + so great that for the present, at least, it was useless to discuss the + matter with him. + </p> + <p> + “I must say, my dear Dunroe,” he added, in a kind and indulgent voice, + “that your first conceptions of reformation are very original, to say the + least of them.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant it, my lord. Every one knows that all my views, acts, and + expressions are original. 'Dunroe's a perfect original' is the general + expression among my friends. But on the subject of religion, I am willing + to be put into training. I told Tom Norton to look out and hire me a + pas'n, or somebody, to give me lessons in it. Is there such a thing, by + the way, as a Religious Grammar? If so, I shall provide one, and make + myself master of all the rules, cases, inflections, interjections, groans, + exclamations, and so on, connected with it. The Bible is the dictionary, I + believe?” + </p> + <p> + Poor Lady Emily, like her father, could not for the life of her suppose + for a moment that her brother was serious: a reflection that relieved her + from much anxiety of mind and embarrassment on his account. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said, she, whilst her beautiful features were divided, if we may + so say, between smiles and tears, “papa, Dunroe is only jesting; I am sure + he is only jesting, and does not mean any serious disrespect to religion.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be, my dear Emily; but he will allow me to tell him that it is + the last subject upon which he, or any one else, should jest. Whether you + are in jest or earnest, my dear Dunroe, let me advise you to bring the + moral courage and energies of a man to the contemplation of your life, in + the first place; and in the next, to its improvement. It is not reading + the Bible, nor repeating prayers, that will, of themselves, make you + religious, unless the heart is in earnest; but a correct knowledge of what + is right and wrong—in other words, of human duty—will do much + good in the first place; with a firm resolution to avoid the evil and + adopt the good. Remember that you are accountable to the Being who placed + you in this life, and that your duty here consists, not in the indulgence + of wild and licentious passions, but in the higher and nobler ones of + rendering as many of your fellow-creatures happy as you can: for such a + course will necessarily insure happiness to yourself. This is enough for + the present; as soon as you recover your strength you shall come to + Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “When I recover my strength!” he exclaimed. “Ay, to be eaten like a + titbit. Heavens, what a delicious morsel a piece of a young peer would be + to such fellows! but I will not run that horrible risk. Lucy must come to + me—I am sure the prospect of a countess's coronet ought to be a + sufficient inducement to her. But, to think that I should run the risk of + being shot from behind a hedge—made a component part of a midnight + bonfire, or entombed in the bowels of some Patagonian cannibal, savagely + glad to feed, upon the hated Saxon who has so often fed upon him!—No, + I repeat, Lucy, if she is to be a countess, must travel in this + direction.” + </p> + <p> + The indelicacy and want of all consideration for the feelings of his + father, so obvious in his heartless allusion to a fact which could only + result from that father's death, satisfied the old man that any + reformation in his son was for the present hopeless, and even Lady Emily + felt anxious to put an end to the visit as soon as possible. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said his father, as they were taking their leave, “I have + had an unpleasant letter from my brother, in which he states that he wrote + to you, but got no answer.” + </p> + <p> + “I never received a letter from him,” replied his lordship; “none ever + reached me; if it had, the very novelty of a communication from such a + quarter would have prevented me from forgetting it.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so. His letter to me, indeed, is a strange one. He utters + enigmatical threats—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, I like that—I am enigmatical myself—you see it is in + the family.” + </p> + <p> + “Enigmatical threats which I cannot understand, and desires me to hold + myself prepared for certain steps which he is about to take, in justice to + what he is pleased to term his own claims. However, it is not worth + notice. But this Norton, I am anxious to see him, Dunroe—will you + request him to call upon me to-morrow at twelve o'clock?—of course, + I feel desirous to make the acquaintance of a man who has proved himself + such a warm and sterling friend to my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly, my lord, he shall attend on you—I shall take care of + that. Good-by, my lord—good by, Emily—good—good—my + dear girl, never mind the embrace—it is quite undignified—anything + but a patrician usage, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + Now it is necessary that we should give our readers a clearer conception + of Lord Dunroe's character than is to be found in the preceding dialogue. + This young gentleman was one of those who wish to put every person who + enters into conversation with them completely at fault. It was one of his + whims to affect ignorance on many subjects with which he was very well + acquainted. His ambition was to be considered a character; and in order to + carry this idea out, he very frequently spoke on the most commonplace + topics as a man might be supposed to do who had just dropped from the + moon. He thought, also, that there was something aristocratic in this + fictitious ignorance, and that it raised him above the common herd of + those who could talk reasonably on the ordinary topics of conversation or + life. His ambition, the reader sees, was to be considered original. It had + besides, this advantage, that in matters where his ignorance is anything + but feigned, it brought him out safely under the protection of his + accustomed habit, without suffering from the imputation of the ignorance + he affected. It was, indeed, the ambition of a vain and silly mind; but + provided he could work out this paltry joke upon a grave and sensible + though unsuspecting individual, he felt quite delighted at the feat; and + took the person thus imposed upon into the number of his favorites. It was + upon this principle among others that Norton, who pretended never to see + through his flimsy irony, contrived to keep in his favor, and to shape him + according to his wishes, whilst he made the weak-minded young man believe + that everything he did and every step he took was the result of his own + deliberate opinion, whereas in fact he was only a puppet in his hands. + </p> + <p> + His father, who was naturally kind and indulgent, felt deeply grieved and + mortified by the reflections arising from this visit. During the remainder + of the day he seemed wrapped in thought; but we do not attempt to assert + that the dialogue with his son was the sole cause of this. He more than + once took out his brother's letter which he read with surprise, not + unmingled with strong curiosity and pain. It was, as he said, extremely + enigmatical, whilst at the same time it contained evidences of that + deplorable spirit which almost uniformly embitters so deeply the feuds + which arise from domestic misconceptions. On this point, however, we shall + enable the reader to judge for himself. The letter was to the following + effect: + </p> + <p> + “My Lord Cullamore.—It is now nine months and upwards since I + addressed a letter to your son; and I wrote to him in reference to you, + because it had been for many years my intention never to have renewed or + held any communication whatsoever with you. It was on this account, + therefore, that I opened, or endeavored to open, a correspondence with him + rather than with his father. In this I have been disappointed, and my + object, which was not an unfriendly one, frustrated. I do not regret, + however, that I have been treated with contempt. The fact cancelled the + foolish indulgence with which an exhibition of common courtesy and + politeness, if not a better feeling, on the part of your son, might have + induced me to treat both you and him. As matters now stand between us, + indulgence is out of the question; so is compromise. I shall now lose + little time in urging claims which you will not be able to withstand. + Whether you suspect the nature of these claims or not is more than I know. + Be that, however, as it may, I can assure you that I had resolved not to + disturb your last days by prosecuting them during your lifetime. That + resolution I have now rescinded, and all that remains for me to say is; + that as little time as possible shall be lost in enforcing the claims I + allude to, in justice to my family. + </p> + <p> + “I am, my Lord Cullamore, + </p> + <p> + “Your obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “RICHARD STAPLETON.” + </p> + <p> + This strange and startling communication caused the good old man much + uneasiness, even although its object and purpose were altogether beyond + his comprehension. The only solution that occurred to him of the mystery + which ran through it, was that it must have been written under some + misconception or delusion for which he could not account. Another key to + the difficulty—one equally replete with distress and alarm—was + that his brother's reason had probably become unsettled, and that the + communication in question was merely the emanation of mental alienation. + And, indeed, on this point only could he account for the miscarriage of + the letter to his son, which probably had never been written at all and + existed only in the disturbed imagination of his unfortunate brother. + </p> + <p> + At all events, the contents of this document, like those mysterious + presentiments of evil which sometimes are said to precede calamity, hung + like a weight upon his mind, view them as he might. He became nervous, + depressed, and gloomy, pleaded illness as an apology for not dining + abroad; remained alone and at home during the whole evening, but arose the + next morning in better spirits, and when our friend Tom Norton presented + himself, he had regained sufficient equanimity and composure to pay proper + attention to that faithful and friendly gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Now Tom, who resolved to make an impression, as it is termed, was dressed + in the newest and most fashionable morning visit costume, drove up to the + hall-door at that kind of breakneck pace with which your celebrated whips + delight to astonish the multitude, and throwing the reins to a servant, + desired, if he knew how to pace the horse up and down, to do so; otherwise + to remember that he had a neck. + </p> + <p> + The servant in question, a stout, compact fellow, with a rich Milesian + face and a mellow brogue, looked at him with a steady but smiling eye. + </p> + <p> + “Have a neck, is it?” he exclaimed; “by my sowl, an' it's sometimes an + inconvenience to have that same. My own opinion is, sir, that the neck now + is jist one of the tenderest joints in the body.” + </p> + <p> + Norton looked at him for a moment with an offended and haughty stare. + </p> + <p> + “If you are incapable of driving the landau, sir,” he replied, “call some + one who can; and don't be impertinent.” + </p> + <p> + “Incapable,” replied the other, with a cool but humorous kind of gravity; + “troth, then it's disgrace I'd bring on my taicher if I couldn't sit a + saddle an' handle a whip with the best o' them. And wid regard to the + neck, sir, many a man has escaped a worse fall than one from the box or + the saddle.” + </p> + <p> + Norton drew himself up with a highly indignant scowl, and turning his + frown once more upon this most impertinent menial, encountered a look of + such comic familiarity, easy assurance, and droll indifference, as it + would not be easy to match. The beau started, stared, again pulled himself + to a still greater height—as if by the dignity of the attitude to + set the other at fault—frowned more awfully, then looked bluster, + and once more surveyed the broad, knowing face and significant laughing + eyes that were fixed upon him—set, as they were, in the centre of a + broad grin—after which he pulled up his collar with an air—taking + two or three strides up and down with what he intended as aristocratic + dignity— + </p> + <p> + “Hem! ahem! What do you mean, sir?” + </p> + <p> + To this, for a time, there was no reply; but there, instead, were the + laughing fascinators at work, fixed not only upon him, but in him, + piercing him through; the knowing grin still increasing and gathering + force of expression by his own confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Curse me, sir, I don't understand this insolence. What do you mean? Do + you know who it is you treat in this manner?” + </p> + <p> + Again he stretched himself, pulled up his collar as before, displaying a + rich diamond ring, then taking out a valuable gold watch, glanced at the + time, and putting it in his fob, looked enormously big and haughty, + exclaiming again, with a frown that was intended to be a stunner—after + again pacing up and down with the genuine tone and carriage of true + nobility— + </p> + <p> + “I say, sir, do you know the gentleman whom you are treating with such + impertinence? Perhaps you mistake me, on account of a supposed + resemblance, for some former acquaintance of yours. If, so, correct + yourself; I have never seen you till this moment.” + </p> + <p> + There, however, was the grin, and there were the eyes as before, to which + we must add a small bit of pantomime on the part of Morty O'Flaherty, for + such was the servant's name, which bit of pantomime consisted in his + (Morty's) laying his forefinger very knowingly alongside his nose, + exclaiming, in a cautious and friendly voice however, + </p> + <p> + “Barney, achora, don't be alarmed; there's no harm done yet. You're safe + if you behave yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Norton. “By the bones of St. Patrick but you are Morty + O'Flaherty! Confound it, my dear Morty, why didn't you make yourself known + at once? it would have relieved both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “One of us, you mane,” replied Morty, with a wink. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul I am glad to free you, Morty. And how are you, man alive? In + a snug berth here, I see, with the father of my friend, Lord Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” exclaimed Morty, shrewdly; “is that it? Your friend; Oh, I see. Nate + as ever, like a clane sixpence. Well, Barney, the world will have its + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Morty, and we must comply with it. Some it brings up, and others it + brings down.” + </p> + <p> + “Whisht, now, Barney,” said Morty; “let by-gones be by-gones. That it + didn't bring you up, be thankful to a gracious Providence and a light pair + o' heels; that's all. And what are you now?” + </p> + <p> + “No longer Barney Bryan, at any rate,” replied the other. “My name, at + present, is Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “At present! Upon my sowl, Barney, so far as names goes, you're a walkin' + catalogue.” + </p> + <p> + “Thomas Norton, Esquire; residing with that distinguished young nobleman, + Lord Dunroe, as his bosom friend and inseparable companion.” + </p> + <p> + “Hem! I see,” said Morty, with a shrug, which he meant as one of + compassion for the aforesaid Lord Dunroe; “son to my masther. Well, God + pity him, Barney, is the worst I wish him. You will take care of him; + you'll tache him a thing or two—and that's enough. But, Barney—” + </p> + <p> + “Curse Barney—Mr. Norton's the word.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Norton—ah, Mr. Norton, there's one person you'll not + neglect.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that, Morty?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, your mother's son, achora. However, you know the proverb—'A + burnt child dreads the fire.' You have a neck still, Barney—beg + pardon, Mr. Norton—don't forget that fact.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll take care of the said neck, believe me, Morty; I shall keep it + safe, never fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care you don't keep it a little too safe. A word to the wise is + enough, Bar—Mr. Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, Morty; and I trust you will remember that that is to be a + regulation between us. 'A close mouth is the sign of a wise head,' too; + and there's a comrade for your proverb—but we are talking too long. + Listen; keep my secret, and I will make it worth your while to do so. You + may ruin me, without serving yourself; but as a proof that you will find + me your friend, I will slip you five guineas, as a recompense, you know, + for taking care of the landau and horses. In short, if we work into each + other's hands it will be the better for us both.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll keep your' saicret,” replied honest Morty, “so long, Barney—hem! + Mr. Norton—as you keep yourself honest; but I'll dirty my hands wid + none o' your money. If I was willin' to betray you, it's not a bribe would + prevent me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Norton, in a few moments, was ushered into the presence of Lord + Cullamore. + </p> + <p> + On entering the apartment, the old nobleman, with easy and native + courtesy, rose up, and received him with every mark of attention and + respect. + </p> + <p> + “I am happy, Mr. Norton,” he proceeded, “to have it in my power to thank + you for the friendship and kindness which my son, Lord Dunroe, has been so + fortunate as to receive at your hands. He speaks of you with such warmth, + and in terms of such high esteem, that I felt naturally anxious to make + your acquaintance, as his friend. Pray be seated.” + </p> + <p> + Norton, who was a quick and ready fellow, in more senses than one, bowed + lowly, and with every mark of the deepest respect; but, at the same time, + he certainly started upon a high and a rather hazardous theory—to + wit, that of a man of consequence, who wished to be considered with + respect to Dunroe rather as a patron than a dependent. + </p> + <p> + The fellow, we should have stated to the reader, was originally from + Kerry, though he adopted Connaught, and consequently had a tolerable + acquaintance with Latin and Greek—an acquisition which often stood + him in stead through life; joined to which was an assurance that nothing + short of a scrutiny such as Morty O'Maherty's could conquer. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, my lord,” he replied, “you quite overrate any trifling + services I may have rendered to my friend Dunroe. Upon my soul and honor + you do. I have done nothing for him—that is, nothing to speak of. + But the truth is, I took a fancy to Dunroe; and I do assure you again, + Lord Cullamore, that when I do take a fancy to any person—a rare + case with me, I grant—I would go any possible lengths to serve him. + Every man has his whim, my lord, and that is mine. I hope your lordship + had a pleasant trip across Channel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank you, Mr. Norton; but I have been for some time past in + delicate health, and am not now so capable of bearing the trip as + formerly. Still I feel no reason to complain, although far from strong. + Dunroe, I perceive, is reduced considerably by his wound and the + consequent confinement.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, naturally, of course, my lord; but a few days now will set him upon + his legs.” + </p> + <p> + “That, it seems to me, Mr. Norton, was a very foolish and unpleasant + affair altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could be more so, my lord. It was altogether wrong on the part of + Dunroe, and so I told him.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you not have prevented it, Mr. Norton?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha! very good, Lord Cullamore. Ask me could I prevent or check a + flash of lightning. Upon my soul and honor, the thing was over, and my + poor friend down, before you could say 'Jack Robinson'—hem!—as + we say in Connaught.” + </p> + <p> + “You have travelled, too, with my son, Mr. Norton, and he is perfectly + sensible of the services you have rendered him during his tour.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid, my Lord Cullamore, that I should assume any superiority over + poor, kind-hearted, and honorable Dunroe; but as you are his father, my + lord, I may—and with pride and satisfaction I do it—put the + matter on its proper footing, and say, that Dunroe travelled with me. The + thing is neither here nor there, of course, nor would I ever allude to it + unless as a proof of my regard and affection for him.” + </p> + <p> + “That only enhances your kindness, Mr. Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my lord, I met Dunroe in Paris—no matter, I took him out of + some difficulties, and prevented him from getting into more. He had been + set by a clique of—but I will not dwell on this, it looks like + egotism—I said before, I took a fancy to him—for it frequently + happens, my good lord, that you take a fancy to the person you have + served.” + </p> + <p> + “True enough, indeed, Mr. Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “I am fond of travelling, and was about to make my fourth or fifth tour, + when I met your son, surrounded by a crew of—but I have alluded to + this a moment ago. At all events, I saw his danger—a young man + exposed to temptation—the most alluring and perilous. Well, my lord, + mine was a name of some weight and authority, affording just the kind of + countenance and protection your son required. Well, I travelled with him, + guarded him, guided him, for as to any inconvenience I may myself have + experienced in taking him by the most comprehensive routes, and some other + matters, they are not worth naming. Of course I introduced him to some of + the most distinguished men of France—to the Marquis De Fogleville, + for instance, the Count Rapscallion, Baron Snottellin, and some others of + the first rank and nobility of the country. The pleasure of his society, + however, more than compensated me for all.” + </p> + <p> + “But, pardon me, Mr. Norton, I believe the title and family of De + Fogleville have been extinct. The last of them was guillotined not long + since for an attempt to steal the crown jewels of France, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “True, my lord, you are perfectly right, the unhappy man was an insane + legitimist; but the title and estates have been revived in the person of + another member of the family, the present marquis, who is a nobleman of + high consideration and honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed! I was not aware of that, Mr. Norton,” said his lordship. “I + am quite surprised at the extent of your generosity and goodness to my + son.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord, it is not my intention to give up Dunroe or abandon the + poor fellow yet awhile. I am determined to teach him economy in managing + his affairs, to make him know the value of time, of money, and of system, + in everything pertaining to Life and business. Nor do I regret what I have + done, nor what I propose to do; far from it, my lord. All I ask is, that + he will always look upon me as a friend or an elder brother, and consult + me, confide in me, and come to me, in fact, or write to me, whenever he + may think I can be of service to him.” + </p> + <p> + “And in his name, of course, I may at least thank you, Mr. Norton,” + replied the Earl, with a slight irony in his manner, “not only for all you + have done, but for all you propose to do, as you say.” + </p> + <p> + Norton shook his head peremptorily. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, my lord, no thanks. I am overpaid by the pleasure of ranking + Dunroe among the number of my friends.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too kind, indeed, Mr. Norton; and I trust my son will be duly + grateful, as he is duly sensible of all you have done for him. By the way, + Mr. Norton, you alluded to Connaught. You are, I presume, an Irishman?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an Irishman, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, sir, I make no inquiry as to your individual family. I am sure + from what I have seen of you they must have been, and are, persons of + worth and consideration; but I wished to ask if the name be a numerous one + in Ireland, or rather, in your part of it—Connaught?” + </p> + <p> + “Numerous, my lord, no, not very numerous, but of the first + respectability.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, is your father living, Mr. Norton? If he be, why don't you bring + him among us? And if you have any brother, I need scarcely say what + pleasure it would afford me, having, as you are aware, I presume, some + influence with ministers, to do anything I could for him, should he + require it; probably in the shape of a foreign appointment, or something + that way. Anything, Mr. Norton, to repay a portion of what is due to you + by my family.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank your lordship,” replied Tom. “My poor father was, as too many + other Irish gentlemen have been, what is termed a hard goer (the honest + man was a horse jockey like myself, thought Tom)—and indeed ran + through a great deal of property during the latter part of his life (when + he was huntsman to Lord Rattlecap, he went through many an estate).” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but your brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Deeply indebted, my lord, but I have no brother living. Poor Edward did + get a foreign appointment many years ago (he was transported for horse + stealing), by the influence of one of the most eminent of our judges, who + strongly advised him to accept it, and returned his name to government as + a worthy and suitable candidate. He died there, my lord, in the discharge + of his appointed duties. Poor Ned, however, was never fond of public + business under government, and, indeed, accepted the appointment in + question with great reluctance.” + </p> + <p> + “The reason why I made these inquiries about the name of Norton,” said + Lord Cullamore, “is this. There was, several years ago, a respectable + female of the name, who held a confidential situation in my family; I have + long lost sight of her, however, and would be glad to know whether she is + living or dead.” + </p> + <p> + (“My sister-in-law,” thought Tom.) “I fear,” he replied, “I can render you + no information on that point, my lord; the last female branch of our part + of the family was my grandmother, who died about three years ago.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a servant entered the apartment, bearing in his hand a + letter, for which office he had received a bribe of half-a-crown. “I beg + pardon, my lord, but there's a woman at the hall-door, who wishes this + letter to be handed to that gentleman; but I fear there's some mistake,” + he added, “it is directed to Barney Bryan. She insists he is here, and + that she saw him come into the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Barney Bryan,” said Tom, with great coolness; “show me the letter, for I + think I know something about it. Yes, I am right. It is an insane woman, + my lord, wife to a jockey of mine, who broke his neck riding my celebrated + horse, Black and all Black, on the Curragh. The poor creature cannot + believe that her husband is dead, and thinks that I enjoy that agreeable + privilege. The circumstance, indeed, was a melancholy one; but I have + supported her ever since.” + </p> + <p> + Morty O'Flaherty, who had transferred his charge to other hands, fearing + that Mister Norton might get into trouble, now came to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said Tom, quick as lightning, “is that insane creature below + still, a poor woman whose husband broke his neck riding a race for me on + the Curragh, and she thinks that I stand to her in that capacity?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; she says,” added the man who brought the letter, “that this + gentleman's name is not Norton, but Bryan—Barney Bryan, I think—and + that he is her husband, exactly as the gentleman says.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so, my lord,” said Tom, smiling; “poor thing! what a melancholy + delusion.” + </p> + <p> + “I was present at the accident, Mr. Norton,” added Morty, boldly, “and + remember the circumstance, in throth, very well. Didn't the poor woman + lose her senses by it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Tom, “I have just mentioned the circumstance to his + lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “And—beg pardon, Mr. Norton—doesn't she take you for her + husband from that day to this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so I have said.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God help her, poor thing! Isn't she to be pitied?” added Morty, with + a dry roguish glance at Mr. Norton; “throth, she has a hard fate of it. + Howaniver, she is gone. I got her off, an' now the place is I clear of the + unfortunate creature. The lord look to her!” + </p> + <p> + The servants then withdrew, and Norton made his parting bow to Lord + Cullamore, whom we now leave to his meditations on the subject of this + interview. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. A Spy Rewarded + </h2> + <h3> + —Sir Thomas Gourlay Charged Home by the Stranger with the Removal + and Disappearance of his Brother's Son. + </h3> + <p> + We left the Black Baronet in a frame of mind by no means to be envied by + our readers. The disappearance of his daughter and her maid had stunned + and so completely prostrated him, that he had not sufficient energy even + for a burst of his usual dark and overbearing resentment. In this state of + mind, however, he was better able to reflect upon the distressing + occurrence that had happened. He bethought him of Lucy's delicacy, of her + sense of honor, her uniform propriety of conduct, her singular + self-respect, and after all, of the complacent spirit of obedience with + which, in everything but her contemplated union with Lord Dunroe, she had, + during her whole life, and under the most trying circumstances, + accommodated herself to his wishes. He then reflected upon the fact of her + maid having accompanied her, and concluded, very naturally, that if she + had resolved to elope with this hateful stranger, she would have done so + in pursuance of the precedent set by most young ladies who take such steps—that + is, unaccompanied by any one but her lover. From this view of the case he + gathered comfort, and was beginning to feel his mind somewhat more at + ease, when a servant entered to say that Mr. Crackenfudge requested to see + him on particular business. + </p> + <p> + “He has come to annoy me about that confounded magistracy, I suppose,” + exclaimed the baronet. “Have you any notion what the worthless scoundrel + wants, Gibson?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the least, your honor, but he seems brimful of something.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, brimful of ignorance, and of impertinence, too, if he durst show it; + yes, and of as much pride and oppression as could well be contained in a + miserable carcass like his. As he is a sneaking, vigilant rascal, however, + and has a great deal of the spy in his composition, it is not impossible + that he may be able to give me some information touching the disappearance + of Miss Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + Gibson, after making his bow, withdrew, and the redoubtable Crackenfudge + was ushered into the presence of the baronet. + </p> + <p> + The first thing the former did was to survey the countenance of his + patron, for as such he wished to consider him and to find him. There, + then, Sir Thomas sat, stern but indifferent, with precisely the expression + of a tiger lying gloomily in his den, the natural ferocity “in grim + repose” for the time, but evidently ready to blaze up at anything that + might disturb or provoke him. Had Crackenfudge been gifted with either + tact or experience, or any enlarged knowledge of the human heart, + especially of the deep, dark, and impetuous one that beat in the bosom + then before him, he would have studied the best and least alarming manner + of conveying intelligence calculated to produce such terrific effects upon + a man like Sir Thomas Gourlay. Of this, however, he knew nothing, although + his own intercourse with him might have well taught him the necessary + lesson. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Crackenfudge,” said the latter, without moving, “what's wrong + now? What's the news?” + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing wrong, Sir Thomas, and a've good news.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet's eye and brow lost some of their gloom; he arose and + commenced, as was his custom, to walk across the room. + </p> + <p> + “Pray what is this good news, Mr. Crackenfudge? Will you be kind enough, + without any unnecessary circumlocution, to favor your friends with it?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, Sir Thomas, because a' know you are anxious to hear it, + and it deeply concerns you.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas paused, turned round, looked at him for a moment with an + impatient scowl; but in the meaningless and simpering face before him he + could read nothing but what appeared to him to be an impudent chuckle of + satisfaction; and this, indeed, was no more than what Crackenfudge felt, + who had altogether forgotten the nature of the communication he was about + to make, dreadful and disastrous as it was, and thought only of the claim + upon Sir Thomas's influence which he was about to establish with reference + to the magistracy. It was the reflection, then, of this train of little + ambition which Sir Thomas read in his countenance, and mistook for some + communication that might relieve him, and set his mind probably at ease. + The scowl we allude to accordingly disappeared, and Sir Thomas, after the + glance we have recorded, said, checking himself into a milder and more + encouraging tone: + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Mr. Crackenfudge, let us hear it at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Sir Thomas, a' told you a'd keep my eye on that chap.” + </p> + <p> + “On whom? name him, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “A' can't, Sir Thomas; the fellow in the inn.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why he has taken her off.” + </p> + <p> + “Taken whom off?” shouted the baronet, in a voice of thunder. “You + contemptible scoundrel, whom has he taken off?” + </p> + <p> + “Your daughter, Sir Thomas—Miss Gourlay. They went together in the + 'Fly' on Tuesday night last to Dublin; a' followed in the 'Flash of + Lightning,' and seen them in conversation. Dandy Dulcimer, who is your + friend—For God's sake, Sir Thomas, be quiet. You'll shake me—a-a-ach—Sir—Thom-a-as—w-wi-will + you not take my—my —li-life——” + </p> + <p> + “You lie like a villain, you most contemptible reptile,” shouted the + other. “My daughter, sirrah, never eloped with an adventurer. She never + eloped at all, sir. She durst not elope. She knows what my vengeance would + be, sirrah. She knows, you lying whelp of perdition, that I would pursue + herself and her paramour to the uttermost ends of the earth; that I would + shoot them both dead—that I would trample upon and spurn their + worthless carcasses, and make an example of them to all time, and through + all eternity. And you—you prying, intermeddling scoundrel—how + durst you—you petty, beggarly tyrant—hated and despised by + poor and rich—was it to mock me—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thom-a-as, a'm—a'm—I—I—aach—ur-ur-ur-mur-murd-murd-er-er-err-errr.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it to jeer and sneer at me—to insult me—you miserable + knave—to drive me mad—into raging frenzy—that you came, + with a smirk of satisfaction on your face, to communicate the disgrace and + dishonor of my family—the ruin of my hopes—the frustration of + my ambition—of all I had set my heart on, and that I perilled my + soul to accomplish? Yes, you villain, your eye was smiling—elated—your + heart was glad—for, sirrah, you hate me at heart.” + </p> + <p> + “God! oh, oh! a'm—a'm—ur-urr-urrr—whee-ee-ee-hee-hee-hee. + God ha-ha-ha-have mer-mer-mercy on my sinf-sinfu-l sou-so-soul! a'm gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you hate me, villain, and this is a triumph to you; every one hates + me, and every one will rejoice at my shame. I know it, you accursed + miscreant, I feel it; and in return I hate, with more than the malignity + of the devil, every human creature that God has made. I have been at + enmity with them, and in that enmity I shall persist; deep and dark as + hell shall it be, and unrelenting as the vengeance of a devil. There,” he + added, throwing the almost senseless body of Crackenfudge over on a sofa, + “there, you may rest on that sofa, and get breath; get breath quickly, and + mark, obey me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Thomas, a' will; a'll do anything, provided that you'll let me + escape with my life. God! a'm nearly dead, the fire's not out of my eyes + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence, you wretched slave!” shouted the baronet, stamping with rage; + not another word of complaint, but listen to n—listen to me, I say: + go on, and let me hear, fully and at large, the withering history of this + burning and most flagitious disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + “But if a' do, you'll only beat and throttle me to death, Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether I may or may not do so, go on, villain, and—go on, that + quickly, or by heavens I shall tear the venomous heart from your body, and + trample the black intelligence out of it. Proceed instantly.” + </p> + <p> + With a face of such distress as our readers may well imagine, and a voice + whose quavers of terror wrere in admirable accordance with it, the + unfortunate Crackenfudge related the circumstance of Lucy's visit to + Dublin, as he considered it, and, in fact, so far as he was acquainted + with her motions, as it appeared to him a decided elopement, without the + possibility of entertaining either doubt or mistake about it. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, how shall we describe the savage fury of the baronet, as + the trembling wretch proceeded? It is impossible. His rage, the vehemence + of his gestures, the spasms that seemed to sey;e sometimes upon his + features and sometimes upon his limbs, as well as upon different parts of + his body, transformed him into the appearance of something that was + unnatural and frightful. He bit his lips in the effort to restrain these + tremendous paroxysms, until the bloody foam fell in red flakes from his + mouth, and as portions of it were carried by the violence of his + gesticulations over several parts of his face, he had more the appearance + of some bloody-fanged ghoul, reeking from the spoil of a midnight grave, + than that of a human being. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “how did it happen that—brainless, worthless, and + beneath all contempt, as you are, most execrable scoundrel—you + suffered that adroit ruffian, Dulcimer—whom I shall punish, never + fear—how came it, you despicable libel on nature and common sense—that + you allowed him to humbug you to your face, to laugh at you, to scorn you, + to spit upon you, to poke your ribs, as if you were an idiot, as you are, + and to kick you, as it were, in every imaginable part of your worthless + carcass—how did it come, I say, that you did not watch them + properly, that you did not get them immediately arrested, as you ought to + have done, or that you did not do more than would merely enable you to + chronicle my disgrace and misery?” + </p> + <p> + “A' did all a' could, Sir Thomas. A' searched through all Dublin for her + without success; but as to where he has her, a' can't guess. The first + thing a' did, after takin' a sleep, was to come an' tell you to-day; for + a' travelled home by last night's coach. You ought to do something, Sir + Thomas, for every one has it now. It's through all Ballytrain. 'Deed a' + pity you, Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + Now this unfortunate being took it for granted that the last brief silence + of the baronet resulted from, some reasonable attention to what he + (Crackenfudge) had been saying, whereas the fact was, that his terrible + auditor had been transfixed into the highest and most uncontrollable fit + of indignation by the substance of his words. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said he, in a voice that made Crackenfudge leap at least a foot + from the sofa. “You pity me, do you!—you, you diabolical + eavesdropper, you pity me. Sacred heaven! And again, you searched through + all Dublin for my daughter!—carrying her disgrace and infamy + wherever you appeared, and advertising them as you went along, like an + emissary of shame and calumny, as you are. Yes,” said he, as he foamed + with the fury of a raging bull; “'I—I—I,' you might have said, + 'a nameless whelp, sprung from the dishonest clippings of a counter—I, + I say, am in quest of Miss Gourlay, who has eloped with an adventurer, an + impostor—with a brushmaker's clerk.'” + </p> + <p> + “A tooth-brush manufacturer, Sir Thomas, and, you know, they are often + made of ivory.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, you intermeddling rascal, I must either tear you asunder or my + brain will burst; I will not have such a worthless life as yours on my + hands, however; you vermin, out with you; I might have borne anything but + your compassion, and even that too; but to blazon through a gaping + metropolis the infamy of my family—of all that was dear to me—to + turn the name of my child into a polluted word, which modest lips would + feel ashamed to utter; nor, lastly, can I forgive you the crime of making + me suffer this mad and unexampled agony.” + </p> + <p> + Action now took the place of words, and had, indeed, come in as an + auxiliary for some time previous. He seized the unfortunate Crackenfudge, + and as, with red and dripping lips, he gave vent to the furious eruptions + of his fiery spirit, like a living Vesuvius—for we know of no other + comparison so appropriate—he kicked and cuffed the wretched and + unlucky intelligencer, until he fairly threw him out at the hall-door, + which he himself shut after him. + </p> + <p> + “Begone, villain!” he exclaimed; “and may you never die till you feel the + torments which you have kindled, like the flames of hell, within me!” + </p> + <p> + On entering the room again, he found, however, that with a being even so + wretched and contemptible as Crackenfudge, there had departed a portion of + his strength. So long as he had an object on which to launch his fury, he + felt that he could still sustain the battle of his passions. But now a + heavy sense came over him, as if of something which he could not + understand or analyze. His heart sank, and he felt a nameless and + indescribable terror within him—a terror, he thought, quite distinct + from the conduct of his daughter, or of anything else he had heard. He + had, in fact, lost all perception of his individual misery, and a moral + gloom, black as night, seemed to cover and mingle with those fiery + tortures which were consuming him. An apprehension, also, of immediate + dissolution came over him—his memory grew gradually weaker and + weaker, until he felt himself no longer able to account for the scene + which had just taken place; and for a brief period, although he neither + swooned nor fainted, nor fell into a fit of any kind, he experienced a + stupor that amounted to a complete unconsciousness of being, if we except + an undying impression of some great evil which had befallen him, and which + lay, like a grim and insatiable monster, tearing up his heart. At length, + by a violent effort, he recovered a little, became once more conscious, + walked about for some time, then surveyed himself in the glass, and what + between the cadaverous hue of his face and the flakes of red foam which we + have described, when taken in connection with his thick, midnight brows, + it need not be wondered at that he felt alarmed at the state to which he + awakened. + </p> + <p> + After some time, however, he rang for Gibson, who, on seeing him, started. + </p> + <p> + “Good God, sir!” said he, quite alarmed, “whit is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not ring for you, sir,” he replied, “to ask impertinent questions. + Send Gillespie to me.” + </p> + <p> + Gibson withdrew, and in the mean time his master went to his + dressing-room, where he washed himself free of the bloody evidences of his + awful passions. This being done, he returned to the library, where, in a + few minutes, Gillespie attended him.” + </p> + <p> + “Gillespie,” he exclaimed, “do you fear God?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I do, Sir Thomas, as well as another, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, begone, for you are useless to me—begone, sirrah, and + get me some one that fears neither God nor devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Sir Thomas,” replied the ruffian, who, having expected a job, felt + anxious to retrieve himself, “as to that matter, I can't say that I ever + was overburdened with much fear of either one or other of them. Indeed, I + believe, thank goodness, I have as little religion as most people.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, sirrah, that you have no conscience?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—hem—I have done things for your honor before, you know. + As to religion, however, I'll stand upon having as little of it as e'er a + man in the barony. I give up to no one in a want of that commodity.” + </p> + <p> + “What proof can you afford me that you are free from it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, blow me if I know the twelve commandments, and, besides, I was only + at church three times in my life, and I fell asleep under the sermon each + time; religion, sir, never agreed with me.” + </p> + <p> + “To blazon my shame!—bad enough; but the ruin of my hopes, d—n + you, sir, how durst you publish my disgrace to the world?” + </p> + <p> + “I, your honor! I'll take my oath I never breathed a syllable of it; and + you know yourself, sir, the man was too drunk to be able to speak or + remember anything of what happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you came to mock and jeer at me; and, besides, you are a liar, she + has not eloped.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you, Sir Thomas,” said Gillespie, who saw at once by + his master's disturbed and wandering eye, that the language he uttered was + not addressed to him. + </p> + <p> + “What—what,” exclaimed the latter, rising up and stretching himself, + in order to call back his scattered faculties. “Eh, Gillespie!—what + brought you here, sirrah? Are you too come to triumph over the ambitious + projector? What am I saying? I sent for you, Gillespie, did I not?” + </p> + <p> + “You did, Sir Thomas; and with regard to what we were speaking about—I + mean religion—I'll hould a pound note with Charley Corbet, when he + comes back, that I have less of it than him; and we'll both leave it to + your honor, as the best judge; now, if I have less of it than Charley, I + think I deserve the preference.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet looked at him, or rather in the direction where he stood, + which induced Gillespie to suppose that he was paying the strictest + attention to what he said. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, I once caught Charley at his prayers, Sir Thomas; but I'd be + glad to see the man that ever caught me at them—that's the chat.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas placed his two hands upon his eyes for as good as a minute, + after which he removed them, and stared about him like one awakening from + a disturbed dream. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?—Begone, Gillespie; I believe I sent for you, but you may go. I + am unwell, and not in a condition to speak to you. When I want you again, + you shall be sent for.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care a d—— about either hell or the devil, Sir + Thomas, especially when I'm drunk; and I once, for a wager, outswore + Squire Leatherings, who was so deaf that I was obliged to swear with my + mouth to the end of his ear-trumpet. I was backed for fifty guineas by + Colonel Brimstone, who was head of the Hellfire Club.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet signed to him impatiently to begone, and this worthy moralist + withdrew, exclaiming as he went: + </p> + <p> + “Take my word for it, you will find nothing to your hand equal to myself; + and if there's anything to be done, curse me but I deserve a preference. I + think merit ought to have its reward at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas, we need not say, felt ill at ease. The tumults of his mind + resembled those of the ocean after the violence of the tempest has swept + over it, leaving behind that dark and angry agitation which indicates the + awful extent of its power. After taking a turn or two through the room, he + felt fatigued and drowsy, with something like a feeling of approaching + illness. Yielding to this heaviness, he stretched himself on a sofa, and + in a few minutes was fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + All minds naturally vicious, or influenced by the impulses of bad and + irregular passions, are essentially vulgar, mean, and cowardly. Our + baronet was, beyond question, a striking proof of this truth. Had he + possessed either dignity, or one spark of gentlemanly feeling, or + self-respect, he would not have degraded himself from what ought to have + been expected from a man in his position, by his violence to the worthless + wretch, Crackenfudge, who was slight, comparatively feeble, and by no + means a match for him in a personal contest. The only apology that can be + offered for him is, that it is probable he was scarcely conscious, in the + whirlwind and tempest of his passions, that he allowed himself to act such + a base and unmanly part to a person who had not willingly offended him, + and who was entitled, whilst under his roof, to forbearance, if not + protection, even in virtue of the communication he had made. + </p> + <p> + After sleeping about an hour, he arose considerably refreshed in body; but + the agony of mind, although diminished in its strength by its own previous + paroxysms, was still intense and bitter. He got up, surveyed himself once + more in the glass, adjusted his dress, and helped himself to a glass or + two of Madeira, which was his usual specific after these internal + conflicts. + </p> + <p> + This day, however, was destined to be one of trial to him, although by no + means his last; neither was it ordained to bring forth the final ordeals + that awaited him. He had scarcely time to reflect upon the measures which, + under the present circumstances, he ought to pursue, although he certainly + was engaged in considering the matter, when Gibson once more entered to + let him know that a gentleman requested the favor of a short interview. + </p> + <p> + “What gentleman? Who is he? I'm not in a frame of mind to see any stranger—I + mean, Gibson, that I'm not well.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, to hear it, sir; shall I tell the gentleman you can't see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no—stay; do you know who he is?” + </p> + <p> + “He is the gentleman, sir, who has been stopping for some time at the + Mitre.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed the baronet, bouncing to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + If some notorious felon, red with half-a-dozen murders, and who, having + broken jail, left an empty noose in the hands of the hangman, had taken it + into his head to return and offer himself up for instant execution to the + aforesaid hangman, and eke to the sheriff, we assert that neither sheriff + nor hangman, nor hangman nor sheriff, arrange them as you may, could feel + a thousandth part of the astonishment which seized Sir Thomas Gourlay on + learning the fact conveyed to him by Gibson. Sir Thomas, however, after + the first natural start, became, if we may use the expression, deadly, + fearfully calm. It was not poor, contemptible Crackenfudge he had to deal + with now, but the prime offender, the great felon himself, the author of + his shame, the villain who poured in the fire of perdition upon his heart, + who blasted his hopes, crumbled into ruin all his schemes of ambition for + his daughter, and turned her very name into a byword of pollution and + guilt. This was the man whom he was now about to get into his power; the + man who, besides, had on a former occasion bearded and insulted him to his + teeth;—the skulking adventurer afraid to disclose his name—the + low-born impostor, living by the rinsings of foul and fetid teeth—the + base upstart—the thief—the man who robbed and absconded from + his employer; and this wretch, this cipher, so low in the scale of society + and life, was the individual who had left him what he then felt himself to + be—a thing crushed, disgraced, trodden in the dust—and then + his daughter!—— + </p> + <p> + “Gibson,” said he, “show him into a room—say I will see him + presently, in about ten minutes or less; deliver this message, and return + to me.” + </p> + <p> + In a few moments Gibson again made his appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Gibson,” continued his master, “where is Gillespie? Send him to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Gillespie's gone into Ballytrain, sir, to get one of the horses fired.” + </p> + <p> + “Gibson, you are a good and faithful servant. Go to my bedroom and fetch + me my pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “My God, Sir Thomas! oh, sir, for heaven's sake, avoid violence! The + expression of your face, Sir Thomas, makes me tremble.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas spoke not, but by one look Gibson felt that he must obey him. + On returning with the arms, his master took them out of his hands, opened + the pans, shook and stirred the powder, examined the flints, saw that they + were sharp and firm, and having done so, he opened a drawer in the table + at which he usually wrote, and there placed them at full cock. Gibson + could perceive that, although unnaturally calm, he was nevertheless in a + state of great agitation; for whilst examining the pistols, he observed + that his hand trembled, although his voice was low, condensed, and firm. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, Sir Thomas! for the Almighty God's sake—” + </p> + <p> + “Go, Gibson, and desire the 'gentleman' to walk up—show him the + way.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas's mind was, no doubt, in a tumult; but, at the same time, it + was the agitation of a man without courage. After Gibson had left the + room, he grew absolutely nervous, both in mind and body, and felt as if he + were unequal to the conflict that he expected. On hearing the firm, manly + tread of the stranger, his heart sank, and a considerable portion of his + violence abandoned him, though not the ungenerous purpose which the result + of their interview might possibly render necessary. At all events, he felt + that he was about to meet the stranger in a much more subdued spirit than + he had expected; simply because, not being naturally a brave or a firm + man, his courage, and consequently his resentment, cooled in proportion as + the distance between them diminished. + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas was standing with his back to the fire as the stranger entered. + The manner of the latter was cool, but cautious, and his bow that of a + perfect gentleman. The baronet, surprised into more than he had intended, + bowed haughtily in return—a mark of respect which it was not his + intention to have paid him. + </p> + <p> + “I presume, sir,” said he, “that I understand the object of this visit?” + </p> + <p> + “You and I, Sir Thomas Gourlay,” replied the stranger, “have had one + interview already—and but one; and I am not aware that anything + occurred then between us that could enable you to account for my presence + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, perhaps so,” replied the baronet, with a sneer; “but to what + may I attribute the honor of that distinguished presence?” + </p> + <p> + “I come, Sir Thomas Gourlay, to seek for an explanation on a subject of + the deepest importance to the party under whose wishes and instructions I + act.” + </p> + <p> + “That party, sir,” replied the baronet, who alluded to his daughter, “has + forfeited every right to give you instructions on that, or any other + subject where I am concerned. And, indeed, to speak candidly, I hardly + know whether more to admire her utter want of all shame in deputing you on + such a mission, or your own immeasurable effrontery in undertaking it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay,” replied the stranger, with a proud smile on his + lips, “I beg to assure you, once for all, that it is not my intention to + notice, much less return, such language as you have now applied to me. + Whatever you may forget, sir, I entreat you to remember that you are + addressing a gentleman, who is anxious in this interview, as well as upon + all occasions when we may meet, to treat you with courtesy. And I beg to + say now, that I regret the warmth of my language to you, though not + unprovoked, on a former occasion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, much obliged, sir,” replied the baronet, with a low, ironical + inclination of the head, indicative of the most withering contempt; “much + obliged, sir. Perhaps you would honor me with your patronage, too. I dare + say that will be the next courtesy. Well, I can't say but I am a fortunate + fellow. Will you have the goodness, however, to proceed, sir, and open + your negotiations? unless, in the true diplomatic spirit, you wish to keep + me in ignorance of its real object.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a task that I enter upon with great pain,” replied the other, + without noticing the offensive politeness of the baronet, “because I am + aware that there are associations connected with it, which you, as a + father, cannot contemplate without profound sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't rest assured of that,” said Sir Thomas. “Your philosophy may lead + you astray there. A sensible man, sir, never regrets that which is + worthless.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger looked a good deal surprised; however, he opened the + negotiation, as the baronet said, in due form. + </p> + <p> + “I believe, Sir Thomas Gourlay,” he proceeded, “you remember that the son + and heir of your late brother, Sir Edward Gourlay, long deceased, + disappeared very mysteriously some sixteen or eighteen years ago, and has + been lost to the family ever since.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” exclaimed the baronet, with no little surprise, “I beg your + pardon. Your exordium was so singularly clear, that I did not understand + you before. Pray proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust, then, you understand me now, sir,” replied the stranger; “and I + trust you will understand me better before we part.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet, in spite of his hauteur and contemptuous sarcasm, began to + feel uneasy; for, to speak truth, there was in the stranger's words and + manner, an earnestness of purpose, joined to a cool and manly spirit, that + could not be treated lightly, or with indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay,” proceeded the stranger— + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” said the other, interrupting him; “plain Thomas + Gourlay, if you please. Is not that your object?” + </p> + <p> + “Truth, sir, is our object, and justice, and the restoration of the + defrauded orphan's rights. These, sir, are our objects; and these we shall + endeavor to establish. Sir Thomas Gourlay, you know that the son of your + brother lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; disguise it—conceal it as you will. You know that the son + of your brother lives. I repeat that emphatically.” + </p> + <p> + “So I perceive. You are evidently a very emphatic gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “If truth, sir, constitute emphasis, you shall find me so.” + </p> + <p> + “I attend to you, sir; and I give you notice, that when you shall have + exhausted yourself, I have my explanation to demand; and, I promise you, a + terrible one you shall find it.” + </p> + <p> + This the wily baronet said, in order, if possible, to confound the + stranger, and throw him out of the directness of his purpose. In this, + however, he found himself mistaken. The other proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “You, Sir Thomas Gourlay, did, one night about eighteen years ago, as I + said, engage a man, disguised in a mask for the purpose of concealing his + features, to kidnap your brother's child from Red Hall—from this + very house in which we both stand.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Sir Thomas, “I forgot that circumstance in the + blaze of your eloquence; perhaps you will have the goodness to take a + seat;” and in the same spirit of bitter sarcasm, he motioned him with mock + courtesy, to sit down. The other, pausing only until he had spoken, + proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “You engaged this man, I repeat, to kidnap your brother's son and heir, + under the pretence of bringing him to see a puppet-show. Now, Sir Thomas + Gourlay,” proceeded the stranger, “suppose that the friends of this child, + kidnapped by you, shall succeed in proving this fact by incontestable + evidence, in what position will you stand before the world?” + </p> + <p> + “Much in the same position in which I stand now. In Red Hall, as its + rightful proprietor, with my back probably to the fire, as it is at + present.” + </p> + <p> + It is undeniable, however, that despite all this haughty coolness of the + baronet, the charge involved in the statement advanced by the stranger + stunned him beyond belief; not simply because the other made it, for that + was a mere secondary consideration, but because he took it for granted + that it never could have been made unless through the medium of treachery; + and we all know that when a criminal, whether great or small, has reason + to believe that he has been betrayed, his position is not enviable, + inasmuch as all sense of security totters from under him. The stranger, as + he proceeded, watched the features of his auditor closely, and could + perceive that the struggle then going on between the tumult of alarm + within and the effort at calmness without, was more than, with all his + affected irony and stoicism, he could conceal. + </p> + <p> + “But, perhaps,” proceeded the baronet, “you who presume to be so well + acquainted with the removal of my brother's child, may have it in your + power to afford me some information on the disappearance of my own. I wish + you, however, to observe this distinction. As the history you have given + happens to be pure fiction, I should wish the other to be nothing but—truth.” + </p> + <p> + “The loss of your child I regret, sir” (Sir Thomas bowed as before), “but + I am not here to speak of that. You perceive now that we have got a clew + to this painful mystery—to this great crime. A portion of the veil + is raised, and you may rest assured that it shall not fall again until the + author of this injustice shall be fully exposed. I do not wish to use + harsher language.” + </p> + <p> + “As to that,” replied Sir Thomas, “use no unnecessary delicacy on the + subject. Thank God, the English language is a copious one. Use it to its + full extent. You will find all its power necessary to establish the pretty + conspiracy you are developing. Proceed, sir, I am quite attentive. I + really did not imagine I could have felt so much amused. Indeed, I am very + fortunate in this respect, for it is not every man who could have such an + excellent farce enacted at his own fireside.” + </p> + <p> + “All this language is well, and no doubt very witty, Sir Thomas; but, + believe me, in the end you will find this matter anything but a farce. + Now, sir, I crave your attention to a proposal which I am about to make to + you on this most distressing subject. Restore this young man to his mother—use + whatever means you may in bringing this about. Let it appear, for + instance, that he was discovered accidentally, or in such a way, at least, + that your name or agency, either now or formerly, may in no manner be + connected with it. On these terms you shall be permitted to enjoy the + title and property during your life, and every necessary guarantee to that + effect shall be given you. The heart of Lady Gourlay is neither in your + present title nor your present property, but in her child, whom that heart + yearns to recover. This, then, Sir Thomas Gourlay, is the condition which + I propose; and, mark me, I propose it on the alternative of our using the + means and materials already in our hands for your exposure and conviction + should you reject it.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one quality about you, sir,” replied the baronet, “which I + admire extremely, and that is your extraordinary modesty. Nothing else + could prompt you to stand up and charge a man of my rank and character, on + my own hearth, with the very respectable crime of kidnapping my brother's + child. Extremely modest, indeed! But how you should come to be engaged in + this vindictive plot, and how you, above all men living, should have the + assurance to thus insult me, is a mystery for the present. Of course, you + see, you are aware, that I treat every word you have uttered with the + utmost degree of contempt and scorn which the language is capable of + expressing. I neither know nor care who may have prompted you, or misled + you; be that, however, as it may, I have only simply to state that, on + this subject I defy them as thoroughly as I despise you. On another + subject, however, I experience toward you a different, feeling, as I shall + teach you to understand before you leave the room.” + </p> + <p> + “This being your reply, I must discharge my duty fully. Pray mark me, now, + Sir Thomas. Did you not give instructions to a certain man to take your + brother's child <i>out of your path—out of your sight—out of + your hearing?</i> And, Sir Thomas, was not that man <i>very liberally + rewarded</i> for that act? I pray you, sir, to think seriously of this, as + I need not say that if you persist in rejecting our conditions, a serious + matter you will find it.” + </p> + <p> + Another contemptuous inclination, and “you have my reply, sir,” was all + the baronet could trust himself to say. + </p> + <p> + “I now come to a transaction of a more recent date, Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the baronet, “I thought I should have had the pleasure of + introducing the discussion of that transaction. You really are, however, + quite a universal genius—so clear and eloquent upon all topics, that + I suppose I may leave it in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “A young man, named Fenton, has suddenly disappeared from this + neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Why, I must surely live at the antipodes, or in the moon, or I + could not plead such ignorance of those great events.” + </p> + <p> + “You are aware, Sir Thomas, that the person passing under that name is + your brother's son—the legitimate heir to the title and property of + which you are in the unjust possession.” + </p> + <p> + Another bow. “I thank you, sir. I really am deriving much information at + your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I demand, Sir Thomas Gourlay, in the name of his injured mother, what + you have done with that young man?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be useless to conceal it,” replied the other. “As you seem to + know everything, of course you know that. To your own knowledge, + therefore, I beg most respectfully to refer you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only another observation to make, Sir Thomas Gourlay. You remember + last Tuesday night, when you drove at an unseasonable hour to the town of———? + Now, sir, I use your words, on <i>that</i> subject, to <i>your own + knowledge</i> I beg most respectfully to refer you. I have done.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay, when effort was necessary, could certainly play an + able and adroit part. There was not a charge brought against him in the + preceding conference that did not sink his heart into the deepest dismay; + yet did he contrive to throw over his whole manner and bearing such a veil + of cold, hard dissimulation as it was nearly impossible to penetrate. It + is true, he saw that he had an acute, sensible, independent man to deal + with, whose keen eye he felt was reading every feature of his face, and + every motion of his body, and weighing, as it were, with a practised hand, + the force and import of every word he uttered. He knew that merely to + entertain the subject, or to discuss it at all with anything like + seriousness, would probably have exposed him to the risk of losing his + temper, and thus placed himself in the power of so sharp and impurturbable + an antagonist. As the dialogue proceeded, too, a portion of his attention + was transferred from the topic in question to the individual who + introduced it. His language, his manner, his dress, his <i>tout ensemble</i> + were unquestionably not only those of an educated gentleman, but of a man + who was well acquainted with life and society, and who appeared to speak + as if he possessed no unequivocal position in both. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil,” thought he to himself several times, “can this person be? + How does he come to speak on behalf of Lady Gourlay? Surely such a man + cannot be a brush manufacturer's clerk—and he has very little the + look of an impostor, too.” + </p> + <p> + All this, however, could not free him from the deep and deadly conviction + that the friends of his brother's widow were on his trail, and that it + required the whole united powers of his faculties for deception, able and + manifold as they were, to check his pursuers and throw them off the scent. + It was now, too, that his indignation against his daughter and him who had + seduced her from his roof began to deepen in his heart. Had he succeeded + in seeing her united to Lord Dunroe, previous to any exposure of himself—supposing + even that discovery was possible—his end, the great object of his + life, was, to a certain extent, gained. Now, however, that that hope was + out of the question, and treachery evidently at work against him, he felt + that gloom, disappointment, shame, and ruin were fast gathering round him. + He was, indeed, every way hemmed in and hampered. It was clear that this + stranger was not a man to be either cajoled or bullied. He read a spirit—a + sparkle—in his eye, which taught him that the brutality inflicted + upon the unfortunate Crackenfudge, and such others as he knew he might + trample on, would never do here. + </p> + <p> + As matters stood, however, he thought the only chance of throwing the + stranger off his guard was to take him by a <i>coup de main</i>. With this + purpose, he went over, and sitting down to his desk before the drawer that + contained his pistols, thus placing himself between the stranger and the + door, he turned upon him a look as stern and determined as he could + possibly assume; and we must remark here, that he omitted no single + consideration connected with the subject he was about to introduce that + was calculated to strengthen his determination. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” said he, “in the first place, may I take the liberty of asking + where you have concealed my daughter? I will have no equivocation, sir,” + he added, raising his voice—“no evasion, no falsehood, but in one + plain word, or in as many as may be barely necessary, say where you have + concealed Miss Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay,” replied the other, “I can understand your feelings + upon this subject, and I can overlook much that you may say in connection + with it; but neither upon that nor any other, can I permit the imputation + of falsehood against myself. You are to observe this, sir, and to forbear + the repetition of such an insult. My reply is brief and candid: I know not + where Miss Gourlay is, upon my honor as a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me, sir, that you and she did not elope in the same + coach on Tuesday night last?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir; and I beg to tell you, that such a suspicion is every way + unworthy of your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, sir; you were seen together in Dublin.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true. I had the honor of travelling in the same coach with her to + the metropolis; but I was altogether unconscious of being her + fellow-traveller until we arrived in Dublin. A few brief words of + conversation I had with her in the coach, but nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “And you presume to say that you know not where she is—that you are + ignorant of the place of her retreat'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I presume to say so, Sir Thomas; I have already pledged my honor as + a gentleman to that effect, and I shall not repeat it.” + </p> + <p> + “As a gentleman!—but how do I know that you are a man of honor and a + gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas, don't allow your passion or prejudice to impose upon your + judgment and penetration as a man of the world. I know you feel this + moment that you are addressing a man who is both; and your own heart tells + you that every word I have uttered respecting Miss Gourlay is true.” + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me there, sir,” replied the baronet. “Your position in + this neighborhood is anything but a guarantee to the truth of what you + say. If you be a gentleman—a man of honor, why live here, incognito, + afraid to declare your name, or your rank, if you have any?—why lie + <i>perdu</i>, like a man under disgrace, or who had fled from justice?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I beg you to rest satisfied that I am not under disgrace, and + that I have motives for concealing my name that are disinterested, and + even honorable, to myself, if they were known.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, will you answer me another question—Do you happen to know a + firm in London named Grinwell and Co.? they are toothbrush manufacturers? + Now, mark my words well—I say Grinwell and Co., tooth-brush + manufacturers.” + </p> + <p> + “I have until this moment never heard of Grinwell and Co., tooth-brush + manufacturers.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” replied Sir Thomas, “all this may be very well and very true; + but there is one fact that you can neither deny nor dispute. You have been + paying your addresses clandestinely to my daughter, and there is a mutual + attachment between you.” + </p> + <p> + “I love your daughter—I will not deny it.” + </p> + <p> + “She returns your affections?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot reply to anything involving Miss Gourlay's opinions, who is not + here to explain them; nor is it generous in you to force me into the + presumptuous task of interpreting her sentiments on such a subject.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact, however, is this. I have for some years entertained other and + different views with respect to her settlement in life. You may be a + gentleman, or you may be an impostor; but one thing is certain, you have + taught her to contravene my wishes—to despise the honors to which a + dutiful obedience to them would exalt her—to spurn my affection, and + to trample on my authority. Now, sir, listen to me. Renounce her—give + up all claims to her—withdraw every pretension, now and forever; or, + by the living God! you shall never carry your life out of this room. + Sooner than have the noble design which I proposed for her frustrated; + sooner than have the projects of my whole life for her honorable + exaltation ruined, I could bear to die the death of a common felon. Here, + sir, is a proposition that admits of only the one fatal and deadly + alternative. You see these pistols; they are heavily loaded; and you know + my purpose; —it is the purpose, let me tell you, of a resolved and + desperate man.” + </p> + <p> + “I know not how to account for this violence, Sir Thomas Gourlay,” replied + the stranger with singular coolness; “all I can say is, that on me it is + thrown away.” + </p> + <p> + “Refuse the compliance with the proposition I have made, and by heavens + you have looked upon your last sun. The pistols, sir, are cocked; if one + fails, the other won't.” + </p> + <p> + “This outrage, Sir Thomas, upon a stranger, in your own house, under the + protection of your own roof, is as monstrous as it is cowardly.” + </p> + <p> + “My roof, sir, shall never afford protection to a villain,” said the + baronet, in a loud and furious voice. “Renounce my daughter, and that + quickly. No, sir, this roof will afford you no protection.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page446.jpg" + alt="Page 446-- Pistols, Which he Instantly Cocked, and Held Ready " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Well, sir, I cannot help that,” replied the stranger, deliberately taking + out of his breast, where they were covered by an outside coat, a case of + excellent pistols, which he instantly cocked, and held ready for action: + “If your roof won't, these good friends will. And now, Sir Thomas, hear + me; lay aside your idle weapons, which, were I even unarmed, I would + disregard as much as I do this moment. Our interview is now closed; but + before I go, let me entreat you to reflect upon the conditions I have + offered you; reflect upon them deeply—yes, and accept them, + otherwise you will involve yourself in all the consequences of a guilty + but unsuccessful ambition—in contempt—infamy—and ruin.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet's face became exceedingly blank at the exhibition of the + fire-arms. Pistol for pistol had been utterly out of the range of his + calculations. He looked upon the stranger with astonishment, not + un-mingled with a considerable portion of that wholesome feeling which + begets self-preservation. In fact, he was struck dumb, and uttered not a + syllable; and as the stranger made his parting bow, the other could only + stare at him as if he had seen an apparition. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. Lucy at Summerfield Cottage. + </h2> + <p> + On his way to the inn, the stranger could not avoid admiring the excellent + sense and prudence displayed by Lucy Gourlay, in the brief dialogue which + we have already detailed to our readers. He felt clearly, that if he had + followed up his natural impulse to ascertain the place of her retreat, he + would have placed himself in the very position which, knowing her father + as she did, she had so correctly anticipated. In the meantime, now that + the difficulty in this respect, which she had apprehended, was over, his + anxiety to know her present residence returned upon him with full force. + Not that he thought it consistent with delicacy to intrude himself upon + her presence, without first obtaining her permission to that effect. He + was well and painfully aware that a lying report of their elopement had + gone abroad, but as he did not then know that this calumny had been + principally circulated by unfortunate Crackenfudge, who, however, was the + dupe of Dandy Dulcimer, and consequently took the fact for granted. + </p> + <p> + Lucy, however, to whom we must now return, on arriving at the neat cottage + already alluded to, occasioned no small surprise to its proprietor. The + family, when the driver knocked, were all asleep, or at least had not + arisen, and on the door being opened by a broad-faced, good-humored + looking servant, who was desired to go to a lady in the chaise, the woman, + after rubbing her eyes and yawning, looked about her as if she were in a + dream, exclaiming, “Lord bless us! and divil a sowl o' them out o' the + blankets yet!” + </p> + <p> + “You're nearly asleep,” said the driver; “but I'll hould a testher that a + tight crapper Would soon brighten your eye. Come, come,” he added, as she + yawned again, “shut your pittaty trap, and go to the young lady in the + chaise.” + </p> + <p> + The woman settled her cap, which was awry, upon her head, by plucking it + quickly over to the opposite side, and hastily tying the strings of her + apron, so as to give herself something of a tidy look, she proceeded, + barefooted, but in slippers, to the chaise. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have the kindness,” said Lucy, in a very sweet voice, “to say to + Mrs. Norton that a young friend of hers wishes to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “And tell her to skip,” added Alley Mahon, “and not keep us here all the + blessed mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Norton!” exclaimed the woman; “I don't know any sich parson as that, + Miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Lucy, putting her head out of the chaise, and re-examining the + cottage, “surely this is where my friend Mrs. Norton did live, certainly. + She must have changed her residence, Alley. This is most unfortunate!—What + are we to do? I know not where to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Whisht! Miss,” said Alley, “we'll put her through her catechiz again. + Come here, my good woman; come forrid; don't be ashamed or afeard in the + presence of ladies. Who does live here?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mainwarin',” replied the servant, omitting the “Miss,” + notwithstanding that Alley had put in her claim for it by using the plural + number. + </p> + <p> + “This is distressing—most unfortunate!” exclaimed Lucy; “how long + has this gentleman—Mr.—Mr.———” + </p> + <p> + “Mainwarin', Miss,” added the woman, respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “She's a stupid lookin' sthreel, at all events,” said Alley, half to + herself and half to her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mainwaring,” continued Lucy; “how long has he been living here?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, and that's more than I can tell you, Miss,” replied the woman; + “I'm from the county Wexford myself, and isn't more than a month here.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst this little dialogue went on, or rather, we should say, after it + was concluded, a tapping was heard at one of the windows, and a signal + given with the finger for the servant to return to the house. She did so; + but soon presented herself a second time at the chaise door with more + agreeable intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “You're right, Miss,” said she; “the mistress desired me to ask you in; + she seen you from the windy, and desired me to bring your things too; + you're to come in, then, Miss, you, an' the sarvint that's along wid you.” + </p> + <p> + On entering, an intelligent, respectable-looking female, of lady-like + manners, shook hands with and even kissed Lucy, who embraced her with much + affection. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mrs. Norton,” she said, “how much surprised you must feel at this + abrupt and unseasonable visit.” + </p> + <p> + “How much delighted, you mean, my dear Miss Gourlay; and if I am + surprised, I assure you the surprise is an agreeable one.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the innocent girl, “your servant told me that you did not live + here, and I felt so much distressed!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Mrs. Norton, “she was right, in one sense: if Mrs. Norton + that was does not live here, Mrs. Mainwaring that is certainly does—and + feels both proud and flattered at the honor Miss Gourlay does her humble + residence.” + </p> + <p> + “How is this?” said Lucy, smiling; “you have then—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, I have changed my condition, as the phrase goes; but neither + my heart nor my affections to you, Miss Gourlay. Pray sit down on this + sofa. Your maid, I presume, Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Lucy; “and a faithful creature has she proved to me, Mrs. + Nor—” but I beg your pardon, my dear madam; how am I—oh, yes, + Mrs. Mainwaring!” + </p> + <p> + “Nancy,” said the latter, “take this young woman with you, and make her + comfortable. You seem exhausted. Miss Gourlay; shall I get some tea?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mrs. Nor—Mainwaring, no; we have had a hasty cup of tea + in Dublin. But if it will not be troublesome, I should like to go to bed + for a time.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring flew out of the room, and called Nancy Gallaher. “Nancy, + prepare a bed immediately for this lady; her maid, too, will probably + require rest. Prepare a bed for both.” + </p> + <p> + She was half in and half out of the room as she spoke; then returning with + a bunch of keys dangling from her finger, she glanced at Miss Gourlay with + that slight but delicate and considerate curiosity which arises only from + a friendly warmth of feeling—but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mrs. Mainwaring,” said Lucy, who understood her look, “I feel + that I have acted very wrong. I have fled from my father's house, and I + have taken refuge with you. I am at present confused and exhausted, but + when I get some rest, I will give you an explanation. At present, it is + sufficient to say that papa has taken my marriage with that odious Lord + Dunroe so strongly into his head, that nothing short of my consent will + satisfy him. I know he loves me, and thinks that rank and honor, because + they gratify his ambition, will make me happy. I know that that ambition + is not at all personal to himself, but indulged in and nurtured on my + account, and for my advancement in life. How then can I blame him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my child, no more of that at present; you want rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mrs. Mainwaring, I do; but I am very wretched and unhappy. Alas! you + know not, my dear friend, the delight which I have always experienced in + obeying papa in everything, with the exception of this hateful union; and + now I feel something like remorse at having abandoned him.” + </p> + <p> + She then gave a brief account to her kind-hearted friend of her journey to + Dublin by the “Fly,” in the first instance, suppressing one or two + incidents; and of her second to Mrs. Mainwaring's, who, after hearing that + she had not slept at all during the night, would permit no further + conversation on that or any other subject, but hurried her to bed, she + herself acting as her attendant. Having seen her comfortably settled, and + carefully tucked her up with her own hands, she kissed the fair girl, + exclaiming, “Sleep, my love; and may God bless and protect you from evil + and unhappiness, as I feel certain He will, because you deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + She then left her to sepose, and in a few minutes Lucy was fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + Whilst this little dialogue between Lucy and Mrs. Mainwaring was + proceeding in the parlor of Summerfield cottage, another was running + parallel with it between the two servants in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “God bless me,” said Nancy Gallaher, addressing Alley, “you look shockin' + bad afther so early a journey! I'll get you a cup o' tay, to put a bloom + in your cheek.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, kindly, ma'am,” replied Alley, with a toss of her head which + implied anything but gratitude for this allusion to her complexion: “a + good sleep, ma'am, will bring back the bloom—and that's aisy done, + ma'am, to any one who has youth on their side. The color will come and go + then, but let a wrinkle alone for keepin' its ground.” + </p> + <p> + This was accompanied by a significant glance at Nancy's face, on which + were legible some rather unequivocal traces of that description. Honest + Nancy, however, although she saw the glance, and understood the + insinuation, seemed to take no notice of either—the fact being that + her whole spirit was seized with an indomitable curiosity, which, like a + restless familiar, insisted on being gratified. + </p> + <p> + In the case of those who undertake journeys similar to that which Lucy had + just accomplished, there may be noticed almost by every eye those + evidences of haste, alarm, and anxiety, and even distress, which to a + certain extent at least tell their own tale, and betray to the observer + that all can scarcely be right. Now Nancy Gallaher saw this, and having + drawn the established conclusion that there must in some way be a lover in + the case, she sat down in form before the fortress of Alley Mahon's + secret, with a firm determination to make herself mistress of it, if the + feat were at all practicable. In Alley, however, she had an able general + to compete with—a general who resolved, on the other hand, to make a + sortie, as it were, and attack Nancy by a series of bold and unexpected + manoeuvres. + </p> + <p> + Nancy, on her part, having felt her first error touching Alley's + complexion, resolved instantly to repair it by the substitution of a + compliment in its stead. + </p> + <p> + “Throth, an' it'll be many a day till there's a wrinkle in your face, + avourneen—an' now that I look at you agin—a pretty an' a sweet + face it is. 'Deed it's many a day since I seen two sich faces as yours and + the other young lady's; but anyway, you had betther let me get you a + comfortable cup o' tay—afther your long journey. Oh, then, but that + beautiful creature has a sorrowful look, poor thing.” + </p> + <p> + These words were accompanied by a most insinuating glance of curiosity, + mingled up with an air of strong benevolence, to show Alley that it + proceeded only from the purest of good feeling. “Thank you,” replied + Alley, “I will take a cup sure enough. What family have you here? if it's + a fair question.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorra one but ourselves,” replied Nancy, without making her much the + wiser. + </p> + <p> + “But, I mane,” proceeded Alley, “have you children? bekase if you have I + hate them.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither chick nor child there will be under the roof wid you here,” + responded Nancy, whilst putting the dry tea into a tin tea-pot that had + seen service; “there's only the three of us—that is, myself, the + misthress, and the masther—for I am not countin' a slip of a girl + that comes in every day to do odd jobs, and some o' the rough work about + the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I suppose,” said Alley, indifferently, “the childre's all married + off?” + </p> + <p> + “There's only one,” replied Nancy; “and indeed you're right enough—she + is married, and not long either—and, in truth, I don't envy her the + husband, she got. Lord save and guard us! I know I wouldn't long keep my + senses if I had him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” asked Alley. “Has he two heads upon him?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, no,” replied the other; “but he's what they call a mad docther, + an' keeps a rheumatic asylum—that manes a place where they put mad + people, to prevent them from doin' harm. They say it would make the hair + stand on your head like nettles even to go into it. However, that's not + what I'm thinkin' of, but that darlin' lookin' creature that's wid the + misthress. The Lord keep sorrow and cross-fortune from her, poor thing—for + she looks unhappy. Avillish! are you and she related? for, as I'm a + sinner, there's a resemblance in your faces—and even in your figures—only + you're something rounder and fuller than she is.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she lovely?” returned Alley, making the most of the compliment. + “Sure, wasn't it in Dublin her health was drunk as the greatest toast in + Ireland.” She then added after a pause, “The Lord knows I wouldn't—” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't what—avourneen?” + </p> + <p> + “I was just thinkin', that I wouldn't marry a mad docther, if there was + ne'er another man in Ireland. A mad docther! Oh, beetha. Then will you let + us know the name that's upon him?” she added in a most wheedling tone. + </p> + <p> + “His name is Scareman, my misthress tells me—he's related by the + mother's side to the Moontides of Ballycrazy, in the barony of Quarther + Clift—arrah, what's this your name is, avourneen?” + </p> + <p> + “Alley Mahon I was christened,” replied her new friend; “but,” she added, + with an air of modest dignity that was inimitable in its way—“in + regard of my place as maid of honor to Lady Lucy, I'm usually called Miss + Mahon, or Miss Alley. My mistress, for her own sake, in ordher to keep up + her consequence, you persave, doesn't like to hear me called anything else + than either one or t'other of them.” + </p> + <p> + “And it's all right,” replied the other. “Well, as I was going to say, + that Mrs. Mainwaring is breakin' her heart about this unforthunate + marriage of her daughter to Scareman. It seems—but this is between + ourselves—it seems, my dear, that he's a dark, hard-hearted scrub, + that 'id go to hell or farther for a shillin', for a penny, ay, or for a + farden. An' the servant that was here afore me—a clean, good-natured + girl she was, in throth—an' got married to a blacksmith, at the + cross-roads beyant—tould me that the scrames, an' yells, an' + howlins, and roarins—the cursin' and blasphaymin'—an' the + laughin', that she said was worse than all—an' the rattlin' of + chains—the Lord save us—would make one think themselves more + in hell than in any place upon this world. And it appears the villain + takes delight in it, an' makes lashins of money by the trade.” + </p> + <p> + “The sorra give him good of it!” exclaimed Alley; “an' I can tell you, + it's Lady Lucy—(divil may care, thought she—I'll make a lady + of her at any rate—this ignorant creature doesn't know the differ) + it's Lady Lucy, I say, that will be sorry to hear of this same marriage—for + you must know—what's this your name is?” + </p> + <p> + “Nancy Gallaher, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “And were you ever married, Nancy?” + </p> + <p> + “If I wasn't the fau't was my own, ahagur! but I'll tell you more about + that some day. No, then, I was not, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God! Well, throth, it's a quare thing to thank God for that, at any + rate.” This, of course, was parenthetical. “Well, my dear,” proceeded + Alley, “you must know that Mrs. Scareman before her marriage—of + course, she was then Miss Norton—acted in the kippacity of tutherer + general to Lady Lucy, except durin' three months that she was ill, and had + to go to England to thry the wathers.” + </p> + <p> + “What wathers?” asked Nancy. “Haven't we plenty o' wather, an' as good as + they have, at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” replied Alley, who sometimes, as the reader may have + perceived, drew upon an imagination of no ordinary fertility; “in England + they have spakin' birds, singin' trees, and goolden wather. So, as I was + sayin', while she went to thry the goolden wather———” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, if ever I get poor health, I'll go there myself,” observed Nancy, + with a gleam of natural humor in her clear blue eye.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, while she went to thry this goolden watlier, her mother, Mrs. + Norton, came in her place as tutherer general, an' that's the way they + became acquainted—Lady Lucy and her. But, my dear, I want to tell + you a saicret.” + </p> + <p> + We are of opinion, that if Nancy's cap had been off at the moment, her two + ears might have been observed to erect themselves on each side of her head + with pure and unadulterated curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Alley, what is it, ahagur?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, you won't breathe this to any human creature?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it me? Arrah! little you know the woman you're spakin' to. Divil a + mortal could beat me at keepin' a saicret, at any rate; an' when you tell + me this, maybe I'll let you know one or two that'll be worth hearin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued Alley, “it's this—Never call my mistress Lady + Lucy, because she doesn't like it.” + </p> + <p> + This was an apple from the shores of the Dead Sea. Nancy's face bore all + the sudden traces of disappointment and mortification; and, from a + principle of retaliation, she resolved to give her companion a morsel from + the same fruit. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Nancy,” continued the former, “what's this you have to tell us?” + </p> + <p> + “But you swear not to breathe it to man, woman, or child, boy or girl, + rich or poor, livin' or dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartainly I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it's this. I understand that Docthor Scareman isn't likely to + have a family. Now, ahagur, if you spake, I'm done, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + Having been then called away to make arrangements necessary to Lucy's. + comfort, their dialogue was terminated before she could worm out of Alley + the cause of her mistress's visit. + </p> + <p> + “She's a cunnin' ould hag,” said the latter, when the other had gone. “I + see what she wants to get out o' me; but it's not for nothing Miss Lucy + has trusted me, an' I'm not the girl to betray her secrets to them that + has no right to know them.” + </p> + <p> + This, indeed, was true. Poor Alley Mahon, though a very neat and handsome + girl, and of an appearance decidedly respectable, was nevertheless a good + deal vulgar in her conversation. In lieu of this, however, notwithstanding + a large stock of vanity, she was gifted with a strong attachment to her + mistress, and had exhibited many trying proofs of truthfulness and secrecy + under circumstances where most females in her condition of life would have + given way. As a matter of course, she was obliged to receive her master's + bribes, otherwise she would have been instantly dismissed, as one who + presumed to favor Lucy's interest and oppose his own. Her fertility of + fancy, however, joined to deep-rooted affection for his daughter, enabled + her to return as a recompense for Sir Thomas's bribes, that description of + one-sided truth which transfuses fiction into its own character and + spirit, just as a drop or two of any coloring fluid will tinge a large + portion of water with its own hue. Her replies, therefore, when sifted and + examined, always bore in them a sufficient portion of truth to enable her, + on the strong point of veracity on which she boldly stood, to bear herself + out with triumph; owing, indeed, to a slight dash in her defence of the + coloring we have described. Lucy felt that the agitation of mind, or + rather, we should say, the agony of spirit which she had been of late + forced to struggle with, had affected her health more than she could have + anticipated. That and the unusual fatigue of a long journey in a night + coach, eked out by a jolting drive to Wicklow at a time when she required + refreshment and rest, told upon her constitution, although a naturally + healthy one. For the next three or four days after her arrival at + Summerfield Cottage, she experienced symptoms of slight fever, apparently + nervous. Every attention that could be paid to her she received at the + hands of Mrs. Mainwaring, and her own maid, who seldom was a moment from + her bedside. Two or three times a day she was seized with fits of moping, + during which she deplored her melancholy lot in life, feared she had + offended her kind hostess by intruding, without either notice or + announcement, upon the quiet harmony of her family, and begged her again + and again to forgive her; adding, “That as soon as her recovery should be + established, she would return to her father's house to die, she hoped, and + join mamma; and this,” she said, “was her last and only consolation.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring saw at once that her complaint was principally on the + nerves, and lost no time in asking permission to call in medical advice. + To this, Lucy, whose chief object was to remain unknown and in secrecy for + the present, strongly objected; but by the mild and affectionate + remonstrances of Mrs. Mainwaring, as well as at the earnest entreaties of + Alley, she consented to allow a physician to be called in. + </p> + <p> + This step was not more judicious than necessary. The physician, on seeing + her, at once pronounced the complaint a nervous fever, but hoped that it + would soon yield to proper treatment. He prescribed, and saw her every + second day for a week, after which she gave evident symptoms of + improvement. Her constitution, as we have said, was good; and nature, in + spite of an anxious mind and disagreeable reflections, bore her completely + out of danger. + </p> + <p> + It was not until the first day of her appearance in the parlor subsequent + to her illness, that she had an opportunity of seeing Mr. Mainwaring, of + whom his wife spoke in terms of great tenderness and affection. She found + him to be a gentlemanly person of great good sense and delicacy of + feeling. + </p> + <p> + “I regret,” said he, after the usual introduction had taken place, “to + have been deprived so long of knowing a young lady of whose goodness and + many admirable qualities I have heard so much from the lips of Mrs. + Mainwaring. It is true I knew her affectionate nature,” he added, with a + look of more than kindness at his wife, “and I allowed something for high + coloring in your case, Miss Gourlay, as well as in others, that I could + name; but I now find, that with all her good-will, she sometimes fails to + do justice to the original.” + </p> + <p> + “And, my dear John, did I not tell you so?” replied his wife, smiling; + “but if you make other allusions, I am sure Miss Gourlay can bear me out.” + </p> + <p> + “She has more than borne you out, my dear,” he replied, purposely + misunderstanding her. “She has more than borne you out; for, truth to + tell, you have in Miss Gourlay's case fallen far short of what I see she + is.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Mainwaring,” said Lucy, smiling in her turn, “it is certainly + very strange that she can please neither of us. The outline she gave me of + your character was quite shocking. She said you were—what's this you + said of him, Mrs. Mainwaring—oh, it was very bad, sir. I think we + must deprive her of all claim to the character of an artist. Do you know I + was afraid to meet the original, in consequence of the gloomy colors in + which she sketched what she intended, I suppose, should be the likeness.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Miss Gourlay,” observed Mrs. Mainwaring, “now that I have + failed in doing justice to the portraits of two of my dearest friends, I + think I will burn my palette and brushes, and give up portrait painting in + future.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mainwaring now rose up to take his usual stroll, but turning to Lucy + before he went, he said, + </p> + <p> + “At all events, my dear Miss Gourlay, what between her painting and the + worth of the original, permit me to say that this house is your home just + as long as you wish. Consider Mrs. Mainwaring and me as parents to you; + willing, nay, most anxious, in every sense, to contribute to your comfort + and happiness. We are not poor, Miss Gourlay; but, on the contrary, both + independent and wealthy. You must, therefore, want for nothing. I am, for + as long as may be necessary, your parent, as I said, and your banker; and + if you will permit me the honor, I would wish to add, your friend. + Good-by, my dear child, I am going to take my daily ramble; but I am sure + you are in safe hands when I leave you in my dear Martha's. Good-by, my + love.” + </p> + <p> + The amiable man took his golden-headed cane, and sauntered out to amuse + himself among the fields, occasionally going into the town of Wicklow, + taking a glance at the papers in the hotel, to which he generally added a + glass of ale and a pipe. + </p> + <p> + It was not until he had left them that Lucy enjoyed an opportunity of + pouring out, at full length, to her delicate-minded and faithful friend, + the cause of her flight from home. This narrative, however, was an + honorable proof of the considerate forbearance she evinced when, + necessarily alluding to the character and conduct of her father. Were it + not, in fact, that Mrs. Mainwaring had from personal opportunity been + enabled to thoroughly understand the temper, feelings, and principles of + the worthy baronet, she would have naturally concluded that Lucy was a + disobedient girl, and her father a man who had committed no other error + than that of miscalculating her happiness from motives of excessive + affection. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring heard it all with a calm and matronly benignity that + soothed poor Lucy; for it was for the first time she had ever disclosed + the actual state of her feelings to any one, with the exception of her + late mother. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear Miss Gourlay—” + </p> + <p> + “Call me Lucy, Mrs. Mainwaring,” said the affectionate girl, wiping her + eyes, for we need not assure our readers that the recital of her + sufferings, no matter how much softened down or modified, cost her many a + bitter tear. + </p> + <p> + “I will indeed, my love, I will, Lucy,” she replied, kissing her cheek, + “if it gratifies you. Why should I not? But you know the distance there is + between us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, my dear Mrs. Mainwaring, no. What are the cold forms of the world + but disguises and masks, under which the hardened and heartless put + themselves in a position of false eminence over the humble and the good. + The good are all equal over the earth, no matter what their relative + situations may be; and on this account, not-withstanding my rank, I am + scarcely worthy to sit at your feet.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring, with a kind of affectionate enthusiasm, put her hand upon + the beautiful girl's hand, and was about to speak; but she paused for more + than half a minute, during which space her serene and benevolent face + assumed an expression of profound thought and seriousness. At length she + sighed rather deeply, and said, + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lucy, it is too bad that the happiness of such a girl as you + should be wrecked; but, worst of all, that it should be wrecked upon a + most unprincipled profligate. You know the humbleness of my birth; the + daughter of a decent farmer, who felt it a duty to give his children the + only boon, except his blessing, that he had to bestow upon them—a + good education. Well, my dear child, I beg that you will not be + disheartened, nor suffer your spirits to droop. You will look surprised + when I tell you that I think it more than probable, if I am capable of + judging your father's heart aright, that I shall be able by a short + interview with him to change the whole current of his ambition, and to + bring about such a revulsion of feeling against Lord Dunroe, as may + prevent him from consenting to your union with that nobleman under any + circumstances. Nay, not to stop here; but that I shall cause him to look + upon the breaking up of this contemplated marriage as one of the greatest + blessings that could befall his family.” + </p> + <p> + “Such an event might be possible,” replied Lucy, “were I not unfortunately + satisfied that papa is already aware of Dunroe's loose habits of life, + which he views only as the giddiness of a young and buoyant spirit that + marriage would reform. He says Dunroe is only sowing his wild oats, as, + with false indulgence, he is pleased to term it. Under these + circumstances, then, I fear he would meet you with the same arguments, and + as they satisfy himself so you will find him cling to the dangerous theory + they establish.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Lucy, my dear child, you are quite mistaken in your estimate of the + arguments which I should use, because you neither can know nor suspect + their import. They apply not at all to Lord Dunroe's morals, I assure you. + It is enough to say, at present, that I am not at liberty to disclose + them; and, indeed, I never intended to do so; but as a knowledge of the + secret I possess may not only promote your happiness, but relieve you from + the persecution and misery you endure on this young nobleman's account, I + think it becomes my duty to have an interview with your father on the + subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you do so, my dear madam,” replied Lucy, “it is necessary that I + should put you in possession of—of—” there was here a + hesitation, and a blush, and a confusion of manner, that made Mrs. + Mainwaring look at her with some attention. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Lucy,” she said smiling; “a previous engagement, I'll warrant + me. I see you blush.” + </p> + <p> + “But not for its object, Mrs. Mainwaring,” she replied. “However, you are + right; and papa is aware of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, Lucy; and on that account he wishes to hurry on this hated + marriage—?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “And what peculiar dislike has papa against the object of your choice?—are + you aware?” + </p> + <p> + “The same he would entertain against any choice but his own—his + great ambition. The toil and labor of all his thoughts, hopes, and + calculations, is to see me a countess before he dies. I know not whether + to consider this as affection moved by the ambition of life, or ambition + stimulated by affection.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear Lucy, I fear very much that if your papa's heart were + analyzed it would be found that he is more anxious to gratify his own + ambition than to promote your happiness, and that, consequently, his + interest in the matter altogether absorbs yours. But we need not discuss + this now. You say he is aware of your attachment?” + </p> + <p> + “He is; I myself confessed it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he aware of the name and condition in life of your lover?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, no! Mrs. Mainwaring. He has seen him, but that is all. He + expressed, however, a fierce and ungovernable curiosity to know who and + what he is; but, unfortunately, my lover, as you call him, is so + peculiarly circumstanced, that I could not disclose either the one or the + other.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Lucy, is not this secrecy, this clandestime conduct, on the + part of your lover, wrong? Ought you, on the other hand, to entertain an + attachment for any person who feels either afraid or ashamed to avow his + name and rank? Pardon me, my love.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy rose up, and Mrs. Mainwaring felt somewhat alarmed at the length she + had gone, especially on observing that the lovely girl's face and neck + were overspread with a deep and burning blush. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon you, my dear madam! Is it for uttering sentiments worthy of the + purest friendship and affection, and such only as I would expect to + proceed from your lips? But it is necessary to state, in my own defence, + that beloved mamma was aware of, and sanctioned our attachment. A mystery + there is, unquestionably, about my lover; but it is one with which she was + acquainted, for she told me so. It is not, however, upon this mystery or + that mystery—but upon the truth, honor, delicacy, disinterestedness, + of him to whom I have yielded my heart, that I speak. In true, pure, and + exalted love, my dear Mrs. Mainwaring, there is an intuition of the heart + which enables the soul to see into and comprehend its object, with a + completeness of success as certain and effectual as the mission of an + angel. When such love exists—and such only—all is soon known—the + spirit is satisfied; and, except those lessons of happiness and delight + that are before it, the heart, on that subject, has nothing more to learn. + This, then, is my reply; and as for the mystery I speak of, every day is + bringing us nearer and nearer to its disclosure, and the knowledge of his + worth.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring looked, on with wonder. Lucy's beauty seemed to brighten, + as it were with a divine light, as she uttered these glowing words. In + fact, she appeared to undergo a transfiguration from the mortal state to + the angelic, and exemplified, in her own person—now radiant with the + highest and holiest enthusiasm of love—all that divine purity, all + that noble pride and heroic devotedness of heart, by which it is actuated + and inspired. Her eyes, as she proceeded, filled with tears, and on + concluding, she threw herself, weeping, into her friend's arms, + exclaiming, + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my dear, dear Mrs. Mainwaring, I am not worthy of him.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring kissed, and cherished, and soothed her, and in a short + time she recovered herself, and resumed an aspect of her usual calm, + dignified, yet graceful beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” thought her friend, as she looked on her with mingled compassion + and admiration, “this love is either for happiness or death. I now see, + after all, that there is much of the father's character stamped into her + spirit, and that the same energy with which he pursues ambition actuates + his daughter in love. Each will have its object, or die.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my love,” she exclaimed aloud, “I am sorry we permitted our + conversation to take such a turn, or to carry us so far. You are, I fear, + not yet strong enough for anything calculated to affect or agitate you.” + </p> + <p> + “The introduction of it was necessary, my dear madam,” replied Lucy; “for + I need not say that it was my object to mention the subject of our + attachment to you before the close of our conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at all events,” replied Mrs. Mainwaring, “we shall go and have a + walk through the fields. The sun is bright and warm; the little burn + below, and the thousand larks above, will give us their melody; and + Cracton's park—our own little three-cornered paddock—will + present us with one of the sweetest objects in the humble landscape—a + green field almost white with daisies—pardon the little blunder, + Lucy—thus constituting it a poem for the heart, written by the hand + of nature herself.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, who enjoyed natural scenery with the high enthusiasm that was + peculiar to her character, was delighted at the proposal, and in a few + minutes both the ladies sauntered out through the orchard, which was now + white and fragrant with blossoms. + </p> + <p> + As they went along, Mrs. Mainwaring began to mention some particulars of + her marriage; a circumstance to which, owing to Lucy's illness, she had + not until then had an opportunity of adverting. + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, my dear Lucy,” she proceeded, “I am naturally averse to + lead what is termed a solitary life in the world. I wish to have a friend + on whom I can occasionally rest, as upon a support. You know that I kept a + boarding-school in the metropolis for many years after my return from the + Continent. That I was successful and saved some money are facts which, + perhaps, you don't know. Loss of health, however, caused me to resign the + establishment to Emily, your former governess; but, unfortunately, her + health, like mine, gave way under the severity of its duties. She + accordingly disposed of it, and accepted the important task of + superintending the general course of your education, aided by all the + necessary and usual masters. To this, as you are aware, she applied + herself with an assiduity that was beyond her yet infirm state of health. + She went to Cheltenham, where she recovered strength, and I undertook her + duties until her return. I then sought out for some quiet, pretty, + secluded spot, where I could, upon the fruits of my own industry, enjoy + innocently and peacefully the decline of, I trust, a not unuseful life. + Fortunately, I found our present abode, which I purchased, and which has + been occasionally honored by your presence, as well as by that of your + beloved mamma. Several years passed, and the widow was not unhappy; for my + daughter, at my solicitation, gave up her profession as a governess, and + came to reside with me. In the meantime, we happened to meet at the same + party two individuals—gentlemen—who had subsequently the honor + of carrying off the mother and daughter with flying colors. The one was + Dr. Scareman, to whom Emily—my dear, unfortunate girl, had the + misfortune to get married. He was a dark-faced, but handsome man—that + is to say, he could bear a first glance or two, but was incapable of + standing anything like a close scrutiny. He passed as a physician in good + practice, but as the marriage was—what no marriage ought to be—a + hasty one—we did not discover, until too late, that the practice he + boasted of consisted principally in the management of a mad-house. He is, + I am sorry to say, both cruel and penurious—at once a miser and a + tyrant—and if his conduct to my child is not kinder and more + generous, I shall feel it my duty to bring her home to myself, where, at + all events, she can calculate upon peace and affection. The doctor saw + that Emily was beautiful—knew that she had money—and + accordingly hurried on the ceremony. + </p> + <p> + “Such is the history of poor Emily's marriage. Now for my own. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Main waring was, like myself, a person who had been engaged in + educating the young. For many years he had conducted, with great success, + a boarding-school that soon became eminent for the number of brilliant and + accomplished men whom it sent into society and the institutions of the + country. Like me, he had saved money—like me he lost his health, and + like me his destiny conducted him to this neighborhood. We met several + times, and looked at each other with a good deal of curiosity; he anxious + to know what kind of animal an old schoolmistress was, and I to ascertain + with what tribe an old school-master should be classed. There was + something odd, if not comical, in this scrutiny; and the best of it all + was, that the more closely we inspected and investigated, the more + accurately did we discover that we were counterparts—as exact as the + two sides of a tally, or the teeth of a rat-trap—with pardon to dear + Mr. Mainwaring for the nasty comparison, whatever may have put it into my + head. He, in fact, was an old school-master and a widower; I an old + school-mistress and a widow; he wanted a friend and companion, so did I. + Each finding that the other led a solitary life, and only required that + solace and agreeable society, which a kind and rational companion can most + assuredly bestow, resolved to take the other, as the good old phrase goes, + for better for worse; and accordingly here we are, thank God, with no care + but that which proceeds from the unfortunate mistake which poor Emily made + in her marriage. The spirit that cemented our hearts was friendship, not + love; but the holiness of marriage has consecrated that friendship into + affection, which the sweet intercourse of domestic life has softened into + something still more agreeable and tender. My girl's marriage, my dear + Lucy, is the only painful thought that throws its shadow across our + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Emily,” sighed Lucy, “how little did that calm, sweet-tempered, and + patient girl deserve to meet such a husband. But perhaps he may yet + improve. If gentleness and affection can soften a heart by time and + perseverance, his may yet become human.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the simple history of this amiable couple, who, although enjoying + as much happiness as is usually allotted to man and woman, were not, + however, free from those characteristic traces that enabled their friends + to recognize without much difficulty the previous habits of their lives. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mainwaring,” said Lucy, “I must write to my father, I cannot bear to + think of the anguish he will feel at my sudden and mysterious + disappearance. It will set him distracted, perhaps cause illness.” + </p> + <p> + “Until now, my dear child, you know you had neither time, nor health, nor + strength to do so; but I agree with you, and think without doubt you ought + to make his mind as easy upon this point as possible. At the same time I + do not see that it is necessary for you to give a clew to your present + residence. Perhaps it would be better that I should see him before you + think of returning; but of that we will speak in the course of the + evening, or during to-morrow, when we shall have a little more time to + consider the matter properly, and determine what may be the best steps to + take.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. A Lunch in Summerfield Cottage. + </h2> + <p> + The little spot they strolled in was beautiful, from the natural + simplicity of the sweet but humble scenery around them. They traversed it + in every direction; sat on the sunny side of grassy eminences, gathered + wild flowers, threw pebbles into the little prattling stream that ran over + its stony bed before them; listened to and talked of and enjoyed the music + of the birds as they turned the very air and hedges into harmony. Lucy + thought how happy she could be in such a calm and delightful retreat, with + the society of the man she loved, far from the intrigue, and pride, and + vanity, and ambition of life; and she could scarcely help shuddering when + she reflected upon the track of criminal ambition and profligacy into + which, for the sake of an empty and perhaps a painful title, her father + wished to drag her. + </p> + <p> + This train of thought, however, was dissipated by the appearance of Mr. + Mainwaring, who had returned from his stroll, and came out to seek for + them, accompanied by a young officer of very elegant and gentlemanly + appearance, whom he introduced as Captain Roberts, of the 33d, then + quartered in Dublin. + </p> + <p> + As an apology for the fact of Mr. Mainwaring having introduced a stranger + to Lucy, under circumstances where privacy was so desirable, it may be + necessary to say here, that Mrs. Mainwaring, out of delicacy to Lucy, + forbore to acquaint him even with a hint at the cause of her visit, so far + as Lucy, on the morning of her arrival, had hastily and briefly + communicated it to her. This she was resolved not to do without her + express permission. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me, ladies, to present to you my friend, Captain Roberts, of the + 33d—or, as another older friend of mine, his excellent father, terms + it, the three times eleven—by the way, not a bad paraphrase, and + worthy of a retired school-master like myself. It is turning the + multiplication table into a vocabulary and making it perform military + duty.” + </p> + <p> + After the usual formalities had been gone through, Mr. Mainwaring, who was + in peculiarly excellent spirits, proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “Of course you know, every officer when introduced or travelling is a + captain—CAPTAIN—a good travelling name!—<i>Vide</i> the + play-books, <i>passim</i>. My young friend, however, is at the present—you + remember <i>as in pasenti</i>, Edward—only an ensign, but, please + God, old as some of us are, Mrs. M. to wit—ahem! we will live to + shake hands with him as captain yet.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, of course, my dear,” said his wife, “that I will live to do so; + the youngest, as the proverb has it, lives longest. No man, Mr. Roberts, + will more regret the improbability of verifying his own wishes than Mr. + Mainwaring.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Martha! you're always too hard for me,” he replied, laughing. “But + you must know that this young officer, of whom I feel so proud, is an old + pupil of mine, and received his education at my feet. I consequently feel + a more than usual interest in him. But come, we lose-time. It is now past + two o'clock, and, if I don't mistake, there's a bit of cold ham and + chicken to be had, and my walk has prepared me for lunch, as it usually + does, and besides, Martha, there's an old friend of mine, his father, + waiting for our return, to whom I must introduce you both, ladies, as a + sample of the fine old soldier, who is a capital version of human nature.” + </p> + <p> + On reaching the cottage they found our worthy friend, old Sam Roberts, in + the garden, throwing crumbs of bread to a busy little flock of sparrows, + behind one of the back windows that opened into it. His honest but manly + face was lit up with all the eager and boisterous enjoyment of a child + whilst observing with simple delight the fierce and angry quarrels of the + parents, as they fought on behalf of their young, for the good things so + providentially cast in their way. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now,” said Sam, “I'm commissary-general for this day, and, for a + miracle, an honest one—fight fair, you wretches—but I don't + wonder at the spunk you show, for the rations, I can tell you, are better, + poor things, than you are accustomed to. Hello, there! you, sir—you + big fellow—you hulk of a cock—what business have you here? + This is a quarrel among the ladies, sirrah, who are mothers, and it is for + their young ones—on behalf of their children—they are showing + fight; and you, sir, you overgrown glutton, are stuffing yourself, like + many another 'foul bird' before you, with the public property. Shame, you + little vulture! Don't you see they fly away when they have gotten' an + allowance, and give it to their starving children? D—— your + principle, sir, it's a bad one. You think the strongest ought to take + most, do you? Bravo! Well done, my little woman. Go on, you have right and + nature on your side—that's it, peck the glutton—he's a rascal—a + public officer—a commissary-general that—lay on him—well + done—never mind military discipline—he's none of your officer—he's + a robber—a bandit—and neither a soldier nor a gentleman—by + fife and drum, that's well done. But it's all nature—all the heart + of man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, old friend,” said he, “and so this is your good lady. How do you + do, ma'am? By fife and drum, Mr. Mainwaring, but it's a good match. You + were made for one another. And this young lady your daughter, ma'am? How + do you do, Miss Mainwaring?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Roberts,” said Mainwaring, “we are not so happy as to claim + this young lady as a daughter. She is Miss Gourlay, daughter to Sir Thomas + Gourlay, of Red Hall, now here upon a visit for the good of her health.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Miss Gourlay? I am happy to say that I have seen a young + lady that I have heard so much of—so much, I ought to say, that was + good of.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, as she replied, blushed deeply at this unintentional mention of her + name, and Mrs. Mainwaring, signing to her husband, by putting her finger + on her lips, hinted to him that he had done wrong. + </p> + <p> + Old Sam, however, on receiving this intelligence, looked occasionally, + with a great deal of interest, from Lucy to the young officer, and again + from the young officer to Lucy; and as he did it, he uttered a series of + ejaculations to himself, which were for the most part inaudible to the + rest. “Ha!—dear me!—God bless me!—very strange!—right, + old Corbet—right for a thousand—nature will prove it—not + a doubt of it—God bless me!—how very like they are!—perfect + brother and sister!—bless me—it's extraordinary—not a + doubt of it. Bravo, Ned!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, ladies,” said Mr. Mainwaring; “come, my friend, old Sam, as you + like to be called, and you, Edward, come one, come all, till we try the + cold ham and chicken. Miss Gou—ehem—come, Lucy, my dear, the + short cut through the window; you see it open, and now, Martha, your hand; + but there is old Sam's. Well done, Sam; your soldier's ever gallant. Help + Miss—help the young lady up the steps, Edward. Good! he has + anticipated me.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes they were enjoying their lunch, during which the + conversation became very agreeable, and even animated. Young Roberts had + nothing of the military puppy about him whatsoever. On the contrary, his + deportment was modest, manly, and unassuming. Sensible of his father's + humble, but yet respectable position, he neither attempted to swagger + himself into importance by an affectation of superior breeding or contempt + for his parent, nor did he manifest any of that sullen taciturnity which + is frequently preserved, as a proof of superiority, or a mask for + conscious ignorance and bad breeding; the fact being generally forgotten + that it is an exponent of both. + </p> + <p> + “So, Edward, you like the army, then?” inquired Mr. Mainwaring. + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir,” replied young Roberts; “it's a noble profession.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight, Ned—a noble profession—that's the word,” said old Sam; + “and so it is, my boy, and a brave and a generous one.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy Gourlay and the young soldier had occasionally glanced at each other; + and it might have been observed, that whenever they did so, each seemed + surprised, if not actually confused. + </p> + <p> + “Is it difficult, Edward,” asked Mainwaring, after they had taken wine + together, “to purchase a commission at present?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not very easy to procure commissions just now,” replied the other; + “but you know, Mr. Mainwaring, that I had the honor to be raised from the + ranks.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Ned!” exclaimed old Sam, slapping him him on the back; “I am glad + to see that you take that honor in its true light. Thousands may have + money to buy a commission, but give me the man that has merit to deserve + it; especially, Ned, at so young an age as yours.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have distinguished yourself, sir,” observed Lucy, “otherwise it + is quite unusual, I think, to witness the promotion from the ranks of so + young a man.” + </p> + <p> + “I only endeavored to do my duty, madam,” replied Roberts, bowing + modestly, whilst something like a blush came over his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind him, Miss Gourlay,” exclaimed Sam—“never mind; he did + distinguish himself, and on more than one occasion, too, and well deserved + his promotion. When one of the British flags was seized upon and borne + off, after the brave fellow whose duty it was to defend it with his life + had done so, and was cut down by three French soldiers, our gentleman + here, for all so modest as he looks, pursued them, fought single-handed + against the three, rescued the flag, and, on his way back, met the + general, who chanced to be a spectator of the exploit; when passing near + him, bleeding, for he had been smartly wounded, the general rides over to + him. 'Is the officer who bore that flag killed?' he asked. 'He is, + general,' replied Ned.—'You have rescued it?'—'I have, sir.'—'What + is your name?'—He told him.—'Have you received an education?'—'A + good education, general'—'Very good,' proceeded the general. 'You + have recovered the flag, you say?'—'I considered it my duty either + to die or to do so, general,' replied Ned.—'Well said, soldier,' + returned the general, 'and well done, too: as for the flag itself, you + must only keep it for your pains. Your commission, young man, shall be + made out. I will take charge of that myself.'—There, now, is the + history of his promotion for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is highly honorable to him in every sense,” observed Lucy. “But it was + an awful risk of life for one man to pursue three.” + </p> + <p> + “A soldier, madam,” replied Roberts, bowing to her for the compliment, “in + the moment of danger, or when the flag of his sovereign is likely to be + sullied, should never remember that he has a life; or remember it only + that it may be devoted to the glory of his country and the maintenance of + her freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “That's well said, Edward,” observed Mr. Mainwaring; “very well expressed + indeed. The clauses of that sentence all follow in a neat, consecutive + order. It is, indeed, all well put together as if it were an exercise.” + </p> + <p> + Edward could not help smiling at this unconscious trait of the old + school-master peeping out. + </p> + <p> + “That general is a fine old fellow,” said Sam, “and knew how to reward + true courage. But you see, Mr. Mainwaring and ladies, it's all natural, + all the heart of man.” + </p> + <p> + “There's Mr. Mitchell, our clergyman,” observed Mrs. Mainwaring, looking + out of the window; “I wish he would come in. Shall I call him, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind now, my love,” replied her husband. “I like the man well + enough; he is religious, they say, and charitable, but his early education + unfortunately was neglected. His sermons never hang well together; he + frequently omits the exordium, and often winds them up without the + peroration at all. Then he mispronounces shockingly, and is full of false + quantities. It was only on last Sunday that he laid the accent on <i>i</i> + in Dalilah. Such a man's sermons, I am sorry to say, can do any educated + man little good. Her's a note, my love, from Mrs. Fletcher. I met the + servant coming over with it, and took it from him. She wishes to hear from + you in an hour or two: it's a party, I think.” + </p> + <p> + He threw the note over to his wife, who, after apologizing to the company, + opened, and began to read it. + </p> + <p> + Honest old Mainwaring was an excellent man, and did a great deal of good + in a quiet way, considering his sphere of life. In attending to the + sermon, however, when at church, he laid himself back in his pew, shut his + eyes, put the end of his gold-headed cane to his lips, and set a + criticising. If all the rhetorical rules were duly observed, the language + clear, and the parts of the sermon well arranged, and if, besides, there + was neither false accent, nor false quantity, nor any bad grammar, he + pronounced it admirable, and praised the preacher to the skies. Anything + short of this, however, he looked upon not only as a failure, but + entertained strong doubts of the man's orthodoxy, as well as of the purity + of his doctrine. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear,” replied Mrs. Mainwaring, after having glanced over the + note, “you are right; it is a party; and we are both asked; but I wonder, + above all things, that Miss Fletcher should never cross her t's; then the + tails of her letters are so long that they go into the line below them, + which looks so slovenly, and shows that her writing must have bean very + much neglected. I also know another fair neighbor of ours who actually + puts 'for' before the infinitive mood, and flourishes her large letters + like copperplate capitals that are only fit to appear in a merchant's + books.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know, my dear,” said her husband, “that she is a grocer's widow, + and, it is said, used to keep his accounts.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very obvious, my dear; for, indeed, most of her invitations to + tea are more like bills duly furnished than anything else. I remember one + of them that ran to the following effect: + </p> + <p> + “'Mrs. Allspice presents compliments to Messrs. Mainwaring &, Co.—to + wit, Miss Norton '—this was my daughter—' begs to be favored, + per return of post, as to whether it will suit convenience for to come on + next Tuesday evening, half-past seven, to take a cup of the best flavored + souchong, 7s. 6d. per lb., and white lump, Jamaica, Is. per ditto, with a + nice assortment of cakes, manufactured by ourselves. Punctuality to + appointment expected.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for my part,” said Sam, “I must say it's the entertainment I'd look + to both with her and the parson, and neither the language nor the writing. + Mrs. Mainwaring, will you allow me to propose a toast ma'am? It's for a + fine creature, in her way; a lily, a jewel.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, Mr. Roberts,” said that lady, smiling, for she knew old + Sam must always have his own way. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, fill, fill, each of you. Come, Miss Gourlay, if only for the + novelty of the thing; for I dare say you never drank a toast before. Ned, + fill for her. You're an excellent woman, Mrs. Mainwaring: and he was a + lucky old boy that got you to smooth down the close of his respectable and + useful life—at least, it was once useful—but we can't be + useful always—well, of his harmless life—ay, that is nearer + the thing. Yes, Mrs. Mainwaring, by all accounts you are a most excellent + and invaluable woman, and deserve all honor.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring sat with a comely simper upon her good-natured face, + looking down with a peculiar and modest appreciation of the forthcoming + compliment to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Come now,” Sam went on, “to your legs. You all, I suppose, know who I + mean. Stand, if you please, Miss Gourlay. Head well up, and shoulders a + little more squared, Mainwaring. Here now, are you all ready?” + </p> + <p> + “All ready,” responded the gentlemen, highly amused. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, here's my Beck's health! and long life to her! She's the + pearl of wives, and deserves to live forever!” + </p> + <p> + A fit of good-humored laughter followed old Sam's toast, in which Mrs. + Mainwaring not only came in for an ample share, but joined very heartily + herself; that worthy lady taking it for granted that old Sam was about to + propose the health of the hostess, sat still, while the rest rose; even + Lucy stood up, with her usual grace and good-nature, and put the glass to + her lips; and as it was the impression that the compliment was meant for + Mrs. Mainwaring, the thing seemed very like what is vulgarly called a + bite, upon the part of old Sam, who in the meantime, had no earthly + conception of anything else than that they all thoroughly understood him, + and were aware of the health he was about to give. + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Sam, on witnessing their mirth; “by fife and drum, I see + nothing to laugh at in anything connected with my Beck. I always make it a + point to drink the old girl's health when I'm from home; for I don't know + how it happens, but I think I'm never half so fond of her as when we're + separated.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Eoberts,” said Mrs. Mainwaring, laughing, “I assure you, from + the compliments you paid me, I took it for granted that it was my health + you were about to propose.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but the compliments I paid you, ma'am, were all in compliment to old + Beck; but next to her, by fife and drum, you deserve a bumper. Come, + Mainwaring, get to legs, and let us have her health. Attention, now; head + well up, sir; shoulders square; eye on your wife.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be done,” replied Mainwaring, entering into the spirit of the + joke. “If it were ambrosia, she is worthy of a brimmer. Come, then, fill + your glasses. Edward, attend to Miss Gourlay. Sam, help Mrs. Mainwaring. + Here, then, my dear Martha; like two winter apples, time has only mellowed + us. We have both run parallel courses in life; you, in instructing the + softer and more yielding sex; I, the nobler and more manly.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep strictly to the toast, Matthew,” she replied, “or I shall rise to + defend our sex. You yielded first, you know. Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “As the stronger yields to the weaker, from courtesy and compassion. + However, to proceed. We have both conjugated <i>amo</i> before we ever saw + each other, so that our recurrence to the good old verb seemed somewhat + like a Saturday's repetition. As for <i>doceo</i>, we have been both + engaged in enforcing it, and successfully, Martha”—here he shook his + purse—“during the best portion of our lives; for which we have made + some of the most brilliant members of society our debtors. <i>Lego</i> is + now one of our principal enjoyments; sometimes under the shadow of a + spreading tree in the orchard, during the serene effulgence of a summer's + eve; or, what is still more comfortable, before the cheering blaze of the + winter's fire, the blinds down, the shutters closed, the arm-chair beside + the table—on that table an open book and a warm tumbler—and + Martha, the best of wives— + </p> + <p> + “Attention, Mainwaring; my Beck's excepted.” + </p> + <p> + “Martha, the best of wives—old Sam's Beck always excepted—sitting + at my side. As for <i>audio</i>, the truth is, I have been forced to + experience the din and racket of that same verb during the greater portion + of my life, in more senses than I am willing to describe. I did not + imagine, in my bachelor days, that the fermenting tumult of the + school-room could be surpassed by a single instrument; but, alas!—well, + it matters not now; all I can say is, that I never saw her—heard I + mean, for I am on <i>audio</i>—that the performance of that same + single instrument did not furnish me with a painful praxis of the nine + parts of speech all going together; for I do believe that nine tongues all + at work could not have matched her. But peace be with her! she is silent + at last, and cannot hear me now. I thought I myself possessed an extensive + knowledge of the languages, but, alas I was nothing; as a linguist she was + without a rival. However, I pass that over, and return to the subject of + my toast. Now, my dear Martha, since heaven gifted me with you—” + </p> + <p> + “Attention, Mainwaring! Eyes up to the ceiling, sir, and thank God!” + </p> + <p> + Mainwaring did so; but for the life of him could not help throwing a + little comic spirit into the action, adding in an undertone that he wished + to be heard. “Ah, my dear Sam, how glad I am that you did not bid me go + farther. However, to proceed—No, my dear Martha, ever since our most + felicitous conjugation, I hardly know what the exemplary verb <i>audio</i> + means. I could scarcely translate it. Ours is a truly grammatical union. + Not the nominative case with verb—not the relative with the + antecedent—not the adjective with the substantive—affords a + more appropriate illustration of conjugal harmony, than does our + matrimonial existence. Peace and quietness, however, are on your tongue—affection + and charity in your heart—benevolence in your hand, which is seldom + extended empty to the pool—and, altogether, you are worthy of the + high honor to which,”—this he added with a bit of good-natured irony—“partly + from motives of condescension, and partly, as I said, from motives of + compassion, I have, in the fulness of a benevolent heart, exalted you.” + The toast was then drank. + </p> + <p> + “Attention, ladies!” said Sam, who had been looking, as before, from the + young officer to Lucy, and vice versa—“Mainwaring, attention! Look + upon these two—upon Miss Gourlay, here, and upon Ned Roberts—and + tell me if you don't think there's a strong likeness.” + </p> + <p> + The attention of the others was instantly directed to an examination of + the parties in question, and most certainly they were struck with the + extraordinary resemblance. + </p> + <p> + “It is very remarkable, indeed, Mr. Roberts,” observed their hostess, + looking at them again; “and what confirms it is the fact, that I noticed + the circumstance almost as soon as Mr. Roberts joined us. It is certainly + very strange to find such a resemblance in persons not at all related.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, on finding the eyes of her friends upon her, could not avoid + blushing; nor was the young officer's complexion without a somewhat deeper + tinge. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Mrs. Mainwaring, smiling, “the question is, which we are to + consider complimented by this extraordinary likeness.” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman, of course, Mrs. Mainwaring,” replied Sam. + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably,” said Edward, bowing to Lucy; “I never felt so much + flattered in my life before, nor ever can again, unless by a similar + comparison with the same fair object.” + </p> + <p> + Another blush on the part of Lucy followed this delicate compliment, and + old Sam exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Attention, Mainwaring! and you, ma'am,”—addressing Mrs. Mainwaring. + “Now did you ever see brother and sister more like? eh!” + </p> + <p> + “Very seldom ever saw brother and sister so like,” replied Mainwaring. + “Indeed, it is most extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful! upon my word,” exclaimed his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!—Well,” proceeded Sam, “it is, I believe, very odd—very—and + may be not, either—may be not so odd. Ahem!—and yet, still—however, + no matter, it's all natural; all the heart of man—eh! Mainwaring?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so, Mr. Roberts; I suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + After old Sam and his son had taken their departure, Lucy once more + adverted to the duty as well as the necessity of acquainting her father + with her safety, and thus relieving his mind of much anxiety and trouble. + To this her friend at once consented. The baronet, in the meantime, felt + considerably the worse for those dreadful conflicts which had swept down + and annihilated all that ever had any tendency to humanity or goodness in + his heart. He felt unwell—that is to say, he experienced none of + those symptoms of illness which at once determine the nature of any + specific malady. The sensation, however, was that of a strong man, who + finds his frame, as it were, shaken—who is aware that something of a + nameless apprehension connected with his health hangs over him, and whose + mind is filled with a sense of gloomy depression and restlessness, for + which he neither can account nor refer to any particular source of + anxiety, although such in reality may exist. It appeared to be some + terrible and gigantic hypochondriasis—some waking nightmare—coming + over him like the shadow of his disappointed ambition, blighting his + strength, and warning him, that when the heart is made the battle-field of + the passions for too long a period, the physical powers will ultimately + suffer, until the body becomes the victim of the spirit. + </p> + <p> + Yet, notwithstanding this feeling, Sir Thomas's mind was considerably + relieved. Lucy had not eloped; but then, the rumor of her elopement had + gone abroad. This, indeed, was bitter; but, on the other hand, time—circumstances—the + reappearance of this most mysterious stranger—and most of all, + Lucy's high character for all that was great and good, delicate and + honorable, would ere long, set her right with the world. Nothing, he felt, + however, would so quickly and decidedly effect this as her return to her + father's roof; for this necessary step would at once give the lie to + calumny. + </p> + <p> + In order, therefore, to ascertain, if possible, the place of her present + concealment, he resolved to remove to his metropolitan residence, having + taken it for granted that she had sought shelter there with some of her + friends. Anxious, nervous, and gloomy, he ordered his carriage, and in due + time arrived in Dublin. + </p> + <p> + Thither the stranger had preceded him. The latter, finding that Ballytrain + could no longer be the scene of his operations, also sought the + metropolis. Fenton had disappeared—Lucy was no longer there. His + friend Birney was also in town, and as in town his business now lay, to + town therefore he went. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, we must turn a little to our friend Crackenfudge, who, + after the rough handling he had received from the baronet, went home, if + not a sadder and a wiser, at least a much sorer man. The unfortunate + wretch was sadly basted. The furious baronet, knowing the creature he was, + had pitched into him in awful style. He felt, however, when cooled down, + that he had gone too far; and that, for the sake of Lucy, and in order to + tie up the miserable wretch's babbling tongue, it was necessary that he + should make some apology for such an unjustifiable outrage. He accordingly + wrote him the following letter before he went to town: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR,—The nature of the communication which, I am sure from + kind feelings, you made to me the other day, had such an effect upon a + temper naturally choleric, that I fear I have been guilty of some violence + toward you. I am, unfortunately, subject to paroxysms of this sort, and + while under their influence feel utterly unconscious of what I do or say. + In your case, will you be good enough to let me know—whether I + treated you kindly or otherwise; for the fact is, the paroxysm I speak of + assumes an affectionate character as well as a violent one. Of what I did + or said on the occasion in question I have no earthly recollection. In the + meantime, I have the satisfaction to assure you that Miss Gourlay has not + eloped, but is residing with a friend, in the metropolis. I have seen the + gentleman to whom you alluded, and am satisfied that their journey to town + was purely accidental. He knows not even where she is; but I do, and am + quite easy on the subject. Have the kindness to mention this to all your + friends, and to contradict the report of her elopement wherever and + whenever you hear it. + </p> + <p> + “Truly yours, + </p> + <p> + “Thomas Gourlay. + </p> + <p> + “Periwinkle Crackenfudge, Esq. + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—In the meantime, will you oblige me by sending up to my + address in town a list of your claims for a seat on the magisterial bench. + Let it be as clear and well worded as you can make it, and as authentic. + You may color a little, I suppose, but let the groundwork be truth—if + you can; if not truth—then that which comes as near it as possible. + Truth, you know, is always better than a lie, unless where a lie happens + to be better than truth. + </p> + <p> + “T. G.” + </p> + <p> + To this characteristic epistle our bedrubbed friend sent the following + reply: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sir Thomas,—A' would give more than all mention to be + gifted with your want of memory respecting what occurred the other day. + Never man had such a memory of that dreadful transaction as a' have; from + head to heel a'm all memory; from heel to head a'm all memory—up and + down —round—about—across—here and there, and + everywhere—a'm all memory; but in one particular place, Sir Thomas—ah! + there's where a' suffer—however, it doesn't make no matter; a' only + say that you taught me the luxury of an easy chair and a. soft cushion + ever since, Sir Thomas. + </p> + <p> + “Your letter, Sir Thomas, has given me great comfort, and has made me + rejoice, although it is with groans a' do it, at the whole transaction. If + you succeed in getting me the magistracy, Sir Thomas, it will be the most + blessed and delightful basting that ever a lucky man got. If a' succeed in + being turned into a bony fidy live magistrate, to be called 'your + worship,' and am to have the right of fining and flogging and committing + the people, as a' wish and hope to do, then all say that the hand of + Providence was in it, as well as your foot, Sir Thomas. Now, that you have + explained the circumstance, a' feel very much honored by the drubbing a' + got, Sir Thomas; and, indeed, a' don't doubt, after all, but it was meant + in kindness, as you say, Sir Thomas; and a'm sure besides, Sir Thomas, + that it's not every one you'd condescend to drub, and that the man you + would drub, Sir Thomas, must be a person of some consequence. A' will send + you up my claims as a magistrate some of these days—that is, as soon + as a' can get some long-headed fellow to make them out for me. + </p> + <p> + “And have the honor to be, my dear Sir Thomas, your much obliged and + favored humble servant. + </p> + <p> + “Periwinkle Crackenfudge. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay, Bart.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. An Irish Watchhouse in the time of the “Charlies.” + </h2> + <p> + Another subject which vexed the baronet not a little was the loss of his + money and pistols by the robbery; but what he still felt more bitterly, + was the failure of the authorities to trace or arrest the robber. The + vengeance which he felt against that individual lay like a black venomous + snake coiled round his heart. The loss of the money and the fire-arms he + might overlook, but the man, who, in a few moments, taught him to know + himself as he was—who dangled him, as it were, over the very + precipice of hell—with all his iniquities upon his head, the man who + made him feel the crimes of a whole life condensed into one fearful + moment, and showed them to him darkened into horror by the black lightning + of perdition; such a man, we say, he could never forgive. It was in vain + that large rewards were subscribed and offered, it was in vain that every + effort was made to discover the culprit. Not only was there no trace of + him got, but other robberies had been committed by a celebrated highwayman + of the day, named Finnerty, whom neither bribe nor law could reach. + </p> + <p> + Our readers may remember, with reference to the robbery of the baronet, + the fact of Trailcudgel's having met the stranger on his way to disclose + all the circumstances to the priest, and that he did not proceed farther + on that occasion, having understood that Father M'Mahon was from home. + Poor Trailcudgel, who, as the reader is aware, was not a robber either + from principle or habit, and who only resorted to it when driven by the + agonizing instincts of nature, felt the guilt of his crime bitterly, and + could enjoy rest neither night nor day, until he had done what he + conceived to be his duty as a Christian, and which was all he or any man + could do: that is, repent for his crime, and return the property to him + from whom he had taken it. This he did, as it is usually done, through the + medium of his pastor; and on the very day after the baronet's departure + both the money and pistols were deposited in Father M'Mahon's hands. + </p> + <p> + In a few days afterwards the worthy priest, finding, on inquiry, that Sir + Thomas had gone to Dublin, where, it was said, he determined to reside for + some time, made up his mind to follow him, in order to restore him the + property he had lost. This, however, was not the sole purpose of his visit + to the metropolis. The letter he had given the stranger to Corbet, or + Dunphy, had not, he was sorry to find, been productive of the object for + which it had been written. Perhaps it was impossible that it could; but + still the good priest, who was as shrewd in many things as he was + benevolent and charitable in all, felt strongly impressed with a belief + that this old man was not wholly ignorant, or rather unconnected with the + disappearance of either one or the other of the lost children. Be this, + however, as it may, he prepared to see the baronet for the purpose already + mentioned. + </p> + <p> + He accordingly took his place—an inside one—in the redoubtable + “Fly,” which, we may add, was the popular vehicle at the time, and + wrapping himself up in a thick frieze cloak, or great coat, with standing + collar that buttoned up across his face to the very eyes, and putting a + shirt or two, and some other small matters, into a little bundle—tying, + at the same time, a cotton kerchief over his hat and chin—he started + on his visit to the metropolis, having very much the appearance of a + determined character, whose dress and aspect were not, however, such as to + disarm suspicion. He felt much more careful of the baronet's pocket-book + than he did of his own, and contrived to place it in an inside pocket, + which being rather small for it, he was obliged to rip a little in order + to give it admittance. The case of pistols he slipped into the pockets of + his jock, one in each, without ever having once examined them, or + satisfied himself—simple man—as to whether they were loaded or + not. His own pocket-book was carelessly placed in the right-hand pocket of + the aforesaid jock, along with one of the pistols. + </p> + <p> + The night was agreeable, and nothing worth recording took place until they + had come about five miles on the side of ———, when a + loud voice ordered the coachman to stop. + </p> + <p> + “Stop the coach, sir!” said the voice, with a good deal of reckless and + bitter expression in it; “stop the coach, or you are a dead man.” + </p> + <p> + Several pistols were instantly leveled at both coachman and guard, and the + same voice, which was thin, distinct, and wiry, proceeded—“Keep all + steady now, boys, and shoot the first that attempts to move. I will see + what's to be had inside.” + </p> + <p> + He went immediately to the door of the “Fly,” and opening it, held up a + dark lantern, which, whilst it clearly showed him the dress, countenances, + and condition of the passengers, thoroughly concealed his own. + </p> + <p> + The priest happened to be next him, and was consequently the first person + on whom this rather cool demand was made. + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir,” said the highwayman, “fork out, if you please; and be quick + about it, if you're wise.” + </p> + <p> + “Give a body time, if you plaise,” responded the priest, who at that + moment had about him all the marks and tokens of a farmer, or, at least, + of a man who wished to pass for one. “I think,” he added, “if you knew who + you had, you'd not only pass me by, but the very coach I'm travelin' in. + Don't be unaisy, man alive,” he proceeded; “have patience—for + patience, as everybody knows, is a virtue—do, then, have patience, + or, maybe—oh! ay!—here it is—here is what you want—the + very thing, I'll be bound—and you must have it, too.” And the poor + man, in the hurry and alarm of the moment, pulled out one of the baronet's + pistols. + </p> + <p> + The robber whipped away the lantern, and instantly disappeared. “By the + tarn, boys,” said he, “it's Finnerty himself, disguised like a farmer. But + he's mid to travel in a public coach, and the beaks on the lookout for + him. Hello! all's right, coachman; drive on, we won't disturb you this + night, at all events. Gee hup!—off you go; and off we go—with + empty pockets.” + </p> + <p> + It happened that this language, which the robber did not intend to have + reached the ears of the passengers, was heard nevertheless, and from this + moment until they changed horses at ——— there was a dead + silence in the coach. + </p> + <p> + On that occasion one gentleman left it, and he had scarcely been half a + minute gone when a person, very much in the garb and bearing of a modern + detective, put in his head, and instantly withdrew it, exclaiming, + </p> + <p> + “Curse me, it's a hit—he's inside as snug as a rat in a trap. Up + with you on top of the coach, and we'll pin him when we reach town. 'Gad, + this is a windfall, for the reward is a heavy one.—If we could now + manage the baronet's business, we were made men.” + </p> + <p> + He then returned into the coach, and took his seat right opposite the + priest, in order the better to watch his motions, and keep him completely + under his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Dangerous traveling by night, sir,” said he, addressing the priest, + anxious to draw his man into conversation. + </p> + <p> + “By night or by day, the roads are not very safe at the present time,” + replied his reverence. + </p> + <p> + “The danger's principally by night, though,” observed the other. “This + Finnerty is playing the devil, they say; and is hard to be nabbed by all + accounts.” + </p> + <p> + The observation was received by several hums, and hems, and has, and very + significant ejaculations, whilst a fat, wealthy-looking fellow, who sat + beside the peace-officer—for such he was—in attempting to warn + him of Finnerty's presence, by pressing on his foot, unfortunately pressed + upon that of the priest in mistake, who naturally interpreted the hems and + has aforesaid to apply to the new-corner instead of himself. This cannot + be matter of surprise, inasmuch as the priest had his ears so completely + muffled up with the collar of his jock and a thick cotton kerchief, that + he heard not the allusions which the robber had made outside the coach, + when he mistook him for Finnerty. He consequently peered very keenly at + the last speaker, who to tell the truth, had probably in his villanous + features ten times more the character and visage of a highwayman and + cutthroat than the redoubtable Finnerty himself. + </p> + <p> + “It's a wonder,” said the priest, “that the unfortunate man has not been + taken.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” exclaimed the officer; “unfortunate man. My good fellow, that's + very mild talk when speaking of a robber. Don't you know that all robbers + deserve the gallows, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I know no such thing,” replied the priest. “Many a man has lived by + robbing, in his day, that now lives by catching them; and many a poor + fellow, as honest as e'er an individual in this coach—” + </p> + <p> + “That's very shocking language,” observed a thin, prim, red-nosed lady, + with a vinegar aspect, who sat erect, and apparently fearless, in the + corner of the coach—“very shocking language, indeed. Why, my good + man, should you form any such wile kimparison?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, ma'am; never mind,” said the officer, whose name was Darby; + “let him proceed; from what he is about to say, I sha'n't be surprised if + he justifies robbery—not a bit—but will be a good deal, if he + don't. Go on, my good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” proceeded the priest, “I was going to say, that many a poor + wretch, as honest as e'er an individual, man or woman—” + </p> + <p> + Here there was, on the part of the lady, an indignant toss of the head, + and a glance of supreme scorn leveled at the poor priest; whilst Darby, + like a man who had generously undertaken the management of the whole + discussion, said, with an air of conscious ability, if not something more, + “nevermind him, ma'am; give him tether.” + </p> + <p> + “As honest,” persisted the priest, “as e'er an individual, man or woman, + in this coach—and maybe, if the truth were known, a good deal + honester than some of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” observed the officer; “I agree with you in that—right enough + there.” + </p> + <p> + The vinegar lady, now apprehensive that her new ally had scandalously + abandoned her interests, here dropped her eyes, and crossed her hands upon + her breast, as if she had completely withdrawn herself from the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “I finds,” said she to herself, in a contemptuous soliloquy, “as how there + ain't no gentleman in this here wehicle.” + </p> + <p> + “Just pay attention, ma'am,” said the officer—“just pay attention, + that's all.” + </p> + <p> + This, however, seemed to have no effect—at least the lady remained + in the same attitude, and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose now,” proceeded the priest, “that an unfortunate father, in times + of scarcity and famine, should sit in his miserable cabin, and see about + him six or seven of his family, some dying of fever, and others dying from + want of food; and suppose that he was driven to despair by reflecting that + unless he forced it from the rich who would not out of their abundance + prevent his children from starving, he can procure them relief in no other + way, and they must die in the agonies of hunger before his face. Suppose + this, and that some wealthy man, without sympathy for his + fellow-creatures, regardless of the cries of the poor-heartless, + ambitious, and oppressive; and suppose besides that it was this very + heartless and oppressive man of wealth who, by his pride and tyranny, and + unchristian vengeance, drove that poor man and his wretched family to the + state I have painted them for you, in that cold and dreary hovel; suppose + all this, I say, and that that wretched poor man, his heart bursting, and + his brain whirling, stimulated by affection, goaded by hunger and + indescribable misery; suppose, I say, that in the madness of despair he + sallies out, and happens to meet the very individual who brought him and + his to such a dreadful state—do you think that he ought to let him + pass—” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” interrupted the officer, “without bleeding him; I knew you would + come to that—go along.” + </p> + <p> + “That he ought to let that wealthy oppressor pass, and allow the wife of + his bosom and his gasping little ones to perish, whilst he knows that + taking that assistance from him by violence which he ought to give freely + would save them to society and him? Mark me, I'm not justifying robbery. + Every general rule has its exception; and I'm only supposing a case where + the act of robbery may be more entitled to compassion than to punishment—but, + as I said, I'm not defending it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you, faith?” replied the officer; “it looks devilish like it, + though. Don't you think so, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “I never listens to no nonsense like that ere,” replied the lady. “All I + say is, that a gentleman as I've the honor of being acquainted with, 'as + been robbed the other night of a pocket-book stuffed with banknotes, and a + case of Hirish pistols that he kept to shoot robbers, and sich other + wulgar wretches as is to be found nowhere but in Hireland.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuffed!” exclaimed the priest, disdainfully; “as much stuffed, ma'am, as + you are.” + </p> + <p> + The officer's very veins tingled with delight on hearing the admission + which was involved in the simple priest's exclamation. He kept it, + however, to himself, on account of the large reward that lay in the + background. + </p> + <p> + “I stuffed!” exclaimed the indignant lady, whose thin face had for a + considerable time been visible, for it was long past dawn; “I defy you, + sir,” she replied, “you large, nasty, Hirish farmer, as feeds upon nothing + but taters. I stuffed!—no lady—you nasty farmer—goes + without padding, which is well known to any man as is a gentleman. But + stuffed! I defy you, nasty Paddy; I was never stuffed. Those as stuff use + 'oss 'air; now I never uses 'oss 'air.” + </p> + <p> + “If you weren't stuffed, then,” replied the priest, who took a natural + disrelish to her affectation of pride and haughtiness, knowing her as he + now did—“many a better woman was. If you weren't, ma'am, it wasn't + your own fault. Sir Thomas Gourlay's English cook need never be at a loss + for plenty to stuff herself with.” + </p> + <p> + This was an extinguisher. The heaven of her complexion was instantly + concealed by a thick cloud in the shape of a veil. She laid herself back + in the corner of the carriage, and maintained the silence of a vanquished + woman during the remainder of the journey. + </p> + <p> + On arriving in town the passengers, as is usual, betook themselves to + their respective destinations. Father M'Mahon, with his small bundle under + his arm, was about to go to the Brazen Head Tavern, when he found himself + tapped on the shoulder by our friend Darby, who now held a pistol in his + hand, and said: + </p> + <p> + “There are eight of us, Mr. Finnerty, and it is useless to shy Abraham. + You're bagged at last, so come off quietly to the office.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you,” replied the priest, who certainly felt surprised + at seeing himself surrounded by so many constables, for it was impossible + any longer to mistake them. “What do you mean, my friend? or who do you + suppose me to be?” + </p> + <p> + The constable gave him a knowing wink, adding with as knowing an air—“It's + no go here, my lad—safe's the word. Tramp for the office, or we'll + clap on the wrist-buttons. We know you're a shy cock, Mr. Finnerty, and + rather modest, too—that's the cut. Simpson, keep the right arm fast, + and, you, Gamble, the left, whilst we bring up the rear. In the meantime, + before he proceeds a step, I, as senior, will take the liberty to—just—see—what—is—here,” + whilst, suiting the word to the action, he first drew a pistol from the + left pocket, and immediately after another from the right, and—shades + of Freney and O'Hanlon!—the redoubtable pocket-book of Sir Thomas + Gourlay, each and all marked not only with his crest, but his name and + title at full length. + </p> + <p> + The priest was not at a moment's loss how to act. Perceiving their mistake + as to his identity, and feeling the force of appearances against him, he + desired to be conducted at once to the office. There he knew he could + think more calmly upon the steps necessary to his liberation than he could + in a crowd which was enlarging every moment, on its being understood that + Finnerty, the celebrated highwayman, had been at length taken. Not that + the crowd gave expression to any feeling or ebullition that was at all + unfriendly to him. So far from that, it gathered round him with strong + expressions of sympathy and compassion for his unhappy fate. Many were the + anecdotes reported to each other by the spectators of his humanity—his + charity—his benevolence to the poor; and, above all, of his + intrepidity and courage; for it may be observed here—and we leave + moralists, metaphysicians, and political economists to draw whatever + inferences they please from the fact—but fact it is—that in no + instance is any man who has violated the law taken up publicly, on Irish + ground, whether in town or country, that the people do not uniformly + express the warmest sympathy for him, and a strong manifestation of enmity + against his captors. Whether this may be interpreted favorably or + otherwise of our countrymen, we shall not undertake to determine. As Sir + Roger de Coverly said, perhaps much might be advanced on both sides. + </p> + <p> + On entering the watch-house, the heart of the humane priest was painfully + oppressed at the scenes of uproar, confusion, debauchery, and shameless + profligacy, of which he saw either the present exhibition or the + unquestionable evidences. There was the lost and hardened female, uttering + the wild screams of intoxication, or pouring forth from her dark, filthy + place of confinement torrents of polluted mirth; the juvenile pickpocket, + ripe in all the ribald wit and traditional slang of his profession; the + ruffian burglar, with strong animal frame, dark eyebrows, low forehead, + and face full of coarseness and brutality; the open robber, reckless and + jocular, indifferent to consequences, and holding his life only in trust + for the hangman, or for some determined opponent who may treat him to cold + lead instead of pure gold; the sneaking thief, cool and cowardly, + ready-witted at the extricating falsehood—for it is well known that + the thief and liar are convertible terms—his eye feeble, cunning, + and circumspective, and his whole appearance redolent of duplicity and + fraud; the receiver of stolen goods, affecting much honest simplicity; the + good creature, whether man or woman, apparently in great distress, and + wondering that industrious and unsuspecting people, struggling to bring up + their families in honesty and decency, should be imposed upon and taken in + by people that one couldn't think of suspecting. There, too, was the + servant out of place, who first a forger of discharges, next became a + thief, and heroically adventuring to the dignity of a burglar for which he + had neither skill nor daring, was made prisoner in the act; and there he + sits, half drunk, in that corner, repenting his failure instead of his + crime, forgetting his cowardice, and making moral resolutions with + himself, that, should he escape now, he will execute the next burglary in + a safe and virtuous state of sobriety. But we need not proceed: there was + the idle and drunken mechanic, or, perhaps, the wife, whose Saturday night + visits to the tap-room in order to fetch him home, or to rescue the wages + of his industry from the publican, had at length corrupted herself. + </p> + <p> + Two other characters were there which we cannot overlook, both of whom had + passed through the world with a strong but holy scorn for the errors and + failings of their fellow-creatures. One of them was a man of gross, + carnal-looking features, trained, as it seemed to the uninitiated, into a + severe and sanctified expression by the sheer force of religion. His face + was full of godly intolerance against everything at variance with the one + thing needful, whatever that was, and against all who did not, like + himself, travel on fearlessly and zealously Zionward. He did not feel + himself justified in the use of common and profane language; and, + consequently, his vocabulary was taken principally from the Bible, which + he called “the Lord's word.” Sunday was not Sunday with him, but “the + Lord's day;” and he never went to church in his life, but always to + “service.” Like most of his class, however, he seemed to be influenced by + that extraordinary anomaly which characterizes the saints—that is to + say, as great a reverence for the name of the devil as for that of God + himself; for in his whole life and conversation he was never known to + pronounce it as we have written it. Satan—the enemy—the + destroyer, were the names he applied to him: and this, we presume, lest + the world might suspect that there subsisted any private familiarity + between them. His great ruling principle, however, originated in what he + termed a godless system of religious liberality; in other words, he + attributed all the calamities and scourges of the land to the influence of + Popery. and its toleration by the powers that be. He was a big-boned, + coarse man, with black, greasy hair, cut short; projecting cheek-bones, + that argued great cruelty; dull, but lascivious eyes; and an upper lip + like a dropsical sausage. We forget now the locality in which he had + committed the offence that had caused him to be brought there. But it does + not much matter; it is enough to say that he was caught, about three + o'clock, perambulating the streets, considerably the worse for liquor, and + not in the best society. Even as it was, and in the very face of those who + had detected him so circumstanced, he was railing against the ungodliness + of our “rulers,” the degeneracy of human nature, and the awful scourges + that the existence of Popery was bringing on the land. + </p> + <p> + As it happened, however, this worthy representative of his class was not + without a counterpart among the moral inmates of the watch-house. Another + man, who was known among his friends as a Catholic voteen, or devotee, + happened to have been brought to the game establishment, much in the same + circumstances, and for some similar offence. When compared together, it + was really curious to observe the extraordinary resemblance which these + two men bore to each other. Each was dressed in sober clothes, for your + puritan of every creed must, like his progenitors the Pharisees of old, + have some peculiarity in his dress that will gain him credit for religion. + Their features were marked by the same dark, sullen shade which betokens + intolerance. The devotee was thinner, and not so large a man as the other; + but he made up in the cunning energy which glistened from his eyes for the + want of physical strength, as compared with the Protestant saint; not at + all that he was deficient in it <i>per se</i>, for though a smaller man, + he was better built and more compact than his brother. Indeed, so nearly + identical was the expression of their features—the sensual Milesian + mouth, and naturally amorous temperament, hypocrisized into formality, and + darkened into bitterness by bigotry —that on discovering each other + in the watch-house, neither could for his life determine whether the man + before him belonged to idolatrous Rome on the one hand, or the arch heresy + on the other. + </p> + <p> + There they stood, exact counterparts, each a thousand times more anxious + to damn the other than to save himself. They were not long, however, in + discovering each other, and in a moment the jargon of controversy rang + loud and high amidst the uproar and confusion of the place. The Protestant + saint attributed all the iniquity by which the land, he said, was + overflowed, and the judgments under which it was righteously suffering, to + the guilt of our rulers, who forgot God, and connived at Popery. + </p> + <p> + The Popish saint, on the other hand, asserted that so long as a fat and + oppressive heresy was permitted to trample upon the people, the country + could never prosper. The other one said, that idolatry—Popish + idolatry—was the cause of all; and that it was the scourge by which + “the Lord” was inflicting judicial punishment upon the country at large. + If it were not for that he would not be in such a sink of iniquity at that + moment. Popish idolatry it was that brought him there; and the + abominations of the Romish harlot were desolating the land. + </p> + <p> + The other replied, that perhaps she was the only harlot of the kind he + would run away from; and maintained, that until all heresy was abolished, + and rooted out of the country, the curse of God would sit upon them, as + the corrupt law church does now in the shape of an overgrown nightmare. + What brought him, who was ready to die for his persecuted church, here? He + could tell the heretic;—it was Protestant ascendancy, and he could + prove it;—yes, Protestant ascendancy, and nothing else, was it that + brought him to that house, its representative, in which he now stood. He + maintained that it resembled a watch-house; was it not full of wickedness, + noise, and blasphemy; and were there any two creeds; in it that agreed + together, and did not fight like devils? + </p> + <p> + How much longer this fiery discussion might have proceeded it is difficult + to say. The constable of the night, finding that the two hypocritical + vagabonds were a nuisance to the whole place, had them handcuffed + together, and both placed in the black hole to finish their argument. + </p> + <p> + In short, there was around the good man—vice, with all her + discordant sounds and hideous aspects, clanging in his ear the + multitudinous din that arose from the loud and noisy tumult of her brutal, + drunken, and debauched votaries. + </p> + <p> + The priest, who respected his cloth and character, did not lay aside his + jock, nor expose himself to the coarse jests and ruffianly insolence with + which the vagabond minions of justice were in those days accustomed to + treat their prisoners. He inquired if he could get a person to carry a + message from him to a man named Corbet, living at 25 Constitution Hill; + adding, that he would compensate him fairly. On this, one of those idle + loungers or orderlies about such places offered himself at once, and said + he would bring any message he wished, provided he forked out in the first + instance. + </p> + <p> + “Go, then,” said the priest, handing him a piece of silver, “to No. 25 + Constitution Hill, where a man named Corbet—what am I saying—Dunphy, + lives, and tell him to come to me immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said Darby, laying his finger along; his nose, as he spoke to one of + his associates, “I smell an alias there. Good; first Corbet and then + Dunphy. What do you call that? That chap is one of the connection. Take + the message, Skipton; mark him well, and let him be here, if possible, + before we bring the prisoner to Sir Thomas Gourlay's.” + </p> + <p> + The fellow winked in reply, and approaching the priest, asked, + </p> + <p> + “What message have you to send, Mr. Finnerty?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him—but stay; oblige me with a slip of paper and a pen, I will + write it down.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's better,” said Darby. “Nothing like black and white, you + know,” he added, aside to Skipton. + </p> + <p> + Father M'Mahon then wrote down his office only; simply saying, “The parish + priest of Ballytrain wishes to see Anthony Dunphy as soon as he can come + to him.” + </p> + <p> + This description of himself excited roars of laughter throughout the + office; nor could the good-natured priest himself help smiling at the + ludicrous contrast between his real character and that which had been + affixed upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Confound me,” said Darby, “but that's the best alias I have heard this + many a day. It's as good as Tom Green's that was hanged, and who always + stuck to his name, no matter how often he changed it. At one time it was + Ivy, at another Laurel, at another Yew, and so on, poor fellow, until he + swung.” Skipton, the messenger, took the slip of paper with high glee, and + proceeded on his embassy to Constitution Hill. + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely been gone, when a tumult reached their ears from outside, + in which one voice was heard considerably louder and deeper than the rest; + and almost immediately afterwards an old acquaintance of the reader's, to + wit, the worthy student, Ambrose Gray, in a very respectable state of + intoxication, made his appearance, charged with drunkenness, riot, and a + blushing reluctance to pay his tavern reckoning. Mr. Gray was dragged in + at very little expense of ceremony, it must be confessed, but with some + prospective damage to his tailor, his clothes having received considerable + abrasions in the scuffle, as well as his complexion, which was beautifully + variegated with tints of black, blue, and yellow. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Gray,” said Darby, “back once more I see? Why, you couldn't + live without us, I think. What's this now?” + </p> + <p> + “A deficiency of assets, most potent,” replied Gray, with a hiccough—“unable + to meet a rascally tavern reckoning;” and as Mr. Gray spoke he thrust his + tongue into his cheek, intimating by this significant act his high respect + for Mr. Darby. + </p> + <p> + “You had better remember, sir, that you are addressing the senior officer + here,” said the latter, highly offended. + </p> + <p> + “Most potent, grave, and reverend senior, I don't forget it; nor that the + grand senior can become a most gentlemanly ruffian whenever he chooses. + No, senior, I respect your ruffianship, and your ruffianship ought to + respect me; for well you wot that many a time before now I've greased that + absorbing palm of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” replied Darby, “the hemp is grown for you, and the rope is purchased + that will soon be greased for your last tug. Why didn't you pay your bill, + I say?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you before, most potent, that that fact originated in a deficiency + of assets.” + </p> + <p> + “I rather think, Mr. Gray,” said Darby, “that it originated in a very + different kind of deficiency—a deficiency of inclination, my buck.” + </p> + <p> + “In both, most reverend senior, and I act on scriptural principles; for + what does Job say? 'Base is the slave that patient pays.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my good fellow, if you don't pay, you'll be apt to receive, some + fine day, that's all,” and here he made a motion with his arm, as if he + were administering the cat-o'-nine-tails; “however, this is not my + business. Here comes Mrs. Mulroony to make her charge. I accordingly shove + you over to Ned Nightcap, the officer for the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Gray, “I see, most potent, you have operated before. + Kow-de-dow-de-dow, my boy. There was a professional touch in that jerk + that couldn't be mistaken: that quiver at the wrist was beautiful, and the + position of the arm a perfect triangle. It must have been quite a pleasure + to have suffered from such a scientific hand as yours. How do you do + again, Mrs. Mulroony? Mrs. Mulroony, I hope you did not come without some + refreshment. And you'll withdraw the charge, for the sake of futurity, + Mrs. Mulroony.” + </p> + <p> + “If you do, Mrs. Mulroony,” said Darby, “I'm afraid you'll have to look to + futurity for payment. I mean to that part of it commonly called 'to-morrow + comenever.'—Make your charge, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + Here a pale-faced, sinister-looking old fellow, in a red woollen nightcap, + with baggy protuberances hanging under his red bleared eyes, now came to a + little half door, inside of which stood his office for receiving all + charges against the various delinquents that the Charlies, or watchmen of + the period, had conducted to him. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said he, in a hoarse, hollow voice, “what's this—what's + this? Another charge against you, Mr. Gray? Garvy,” said he, addressing a + watchman, “tell them vagabones that if they don't keep, quiet I'll put + them in irons.” + </p> + <p> + This threat was received with a chorus of derision by those to whom it was + addressed, and the noise was increased so furiously, that it resembled the + clamor of Babel. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Garvy,” said honest Ned, “tickle some of them a bit. Touch up that + bullet-headed house-breaker that's drunk—Sam Stancheon, they call + him—lave a nate impression of the big kay on his head; he'll + undherstand it, you know; and there's Molly Brady, or Emily Howard, as she + calls herself, give her a clink on the noddle to stop her jinteelity. + Blast her pedigree; nothing will serve her but she must be a lady on our + hands. Tell her I'll not lave a copper ring or a glass brooch on her body + if she's not quiet.” + </p> + <p> + The watchman named Garvy took the heavy keys, and big with the deputed + authority, swept, like the destroying angel upon a small scale, through + the tumultuous crew that were assembled in this villanous pandemonium, + thrashing the unfortunate vagabonds on the naked head, or otherwise, as + the case might be, without regard to age, sex, or condition, leaving + bumps, welts, cuts, oaths, curses, and execrations, <i>ad infinitum</i>, + behind him. Owing to this distribution of official justice a partial calm + was restored, and the charge of Mrs. Mulroony was opened in form. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. Mulroony, what charge is this you have against Misther Gray?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied Ambrose, “I wasn't in possession of assets to pay her + own. Had I met her most iniquitous charge at home, honest Ned, I should + have escaped the minor one here. You know of old, Ned, how she lost her + conscience one night, about ten years ago; and the poor woman, although + she put it in the 'Hue and Cry,' by way of novelty, never got it since. + None of the officers of justice knew of such a commodity; <i>ergo</i>, + Ned, I suffer.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Ambrose winked at Ned, and touched his breeches pocket + significantly, as much as to say, “the bribe is where you know.” + </p> + <p> + Ned, however, was strictly impartial, and declined, with most commendable + virtue, to recognize the signal, until he saw whether Mrs. Mulroony did + not understand “generosity” as well as Mr. Gray. + </p> + <p> + “Misther Gray, I'll thank you to button your lip, if you plaise. It's all + very right, I suppose; but in the manetime let daicent Mrs. Mulroony tell + her own story. How is it, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, plain enough,” she replied; “he came in about half past five + o'clock, with three or four skips from college—” + </p> + <p> + “Scamps, Mrs. Mulroony. Be just, be correct, ma'am. We were all gentlemen + scamps, Ned, from college. Everybody knows that a college scamp is a + respectable character, especially if he be a divinity student, a class + whom we are proud to place at our head. You are now corrected, Mrs. + Mulroony—proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well; he tould me to get a dinner for five; but first asked to see what + he called 'the bill of hair.'” + </p> + <p> + “In your hands it is anything but a bill of rights, Mrs. Mulroony.” + </p> + <p> + “I tould him not to trouble himself; that my dinner was as good as + another's, which I thought might satisfy him; but instead o' that, he had + the assurance to ask me if I could give them hair soup. I knew very well + what the skip was at.” + </p> + <p> + “Scamp, ma'am, and you will oblige me.” + </p> + <p> + “For if grief for poor Andy (weeping), that suffered mainly for what he + was as innocent of as the unborn child—if grief, an' every one knows + it makes the hair to fall; an' afther all it's only a bit of a front I'm + wearin';—ah, you villain, it was an ill-hearted cut, that.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't a cut did it, Mrs. Mulroony; it fell off naturally, and by + instalments—or rather it was a cut, and that was what made you feel + it; that youthful old gentleman, Time, gave it a touch with a certain + scythe he carries. No such croppy as old Time, Mrs. Mulroony.” On + concluding, he winked again at old Ned, and touched his pocket as before. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Amby, be quiet,” said Ned, rather complacently though, “an' let + daicent Mrs. Mulroony go on.” + </p> + <p> + “'Well, then,' says he, 'if you haven't, 'hair-soup,' which was as much as + to say—makin' his own fun before the strangers—that I ought to + boil my very wig to plaise him—my front, I mane, 'maybe,' says he, + 'you have oxtail.' Well, flesh and blood could hardly bear that, and I + said it was a scandal for him to treat an industrious, un-projected widow + in such a way; 'if you want a dinner, Mr. Gray,' says I, 'I can give you + and your friends a jacketful of honest corned beef and greens.' Well, my + dear—” + </p> + <p> + At this insinuating expression of tenderness, old Ned, aware, for the + first time, that she was a widow, and kept that most convenient of + establishments, an eating-house, cocked his nightcap, with great spirit + and significance, and with an attempt at a leer, which, from the force of + habit, made him look upon her rather as the criminal than the accuser, he + said—“It was scandalous, Mrs. Mulroony; and it is a sad thing to be + unprotected, ma'am; it's a pity, too, to see sich a woman as you are + without somebody to take care of her, and especially one that id + undherstand swindlin'. But what happened next, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear—indeed, I owe you many thanks for your kindness—you + see, my dear,”—the nightcap here seemed to move and erect itself + instinctively—“this fellow turns round, and says to the other four + skips—'Gentlemen,' says he, 'could you conde—condescend,' I + think it was—yes—'could you condescend to dine upon corned + beef and greens? They said, not unless it would oblige him; and then he + said it wasn't to oblige him, but to sarve the house he did it. So, to + make a long story short, they filled themselves with my victuals, drank + seven tumblers of punch each, kept playin' cards the whole night, and then + fell a fightin'—smashed glass, delft, and everything; and when it + was mornin', slipped out, one by one, till I caught my skip here, the last + of them—” + </p> + <p> + “Scamp, Mrs. Roony; a gentleman scamp, known to every one as a most + respectable character on town.” + </p> + <p> + “When I caught him going off without payment, he fairly laughed in my + face, and offered to toss me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the villain!” said Ned; “I only wish I had been there, Mrs. Mulroony, + and you wouldn't have wanted what I am sorry to see you do want—a + protector. The villain, to go to toss such a woman—to go to take + such scandalous liberties! Go on, ma'am—go on, my dear Mrs. + Mulroony.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, he offered, as I said, to toss me for it—double or + quits—and when I wouldn't stand that, he asked me if I would allow + him to kiss it in, at so many kisses a-day; but I told him that coin + wouldn't pass wid me.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a swindler, ma'am; no doubt of it, and you'll never be safe till you + have some one to protect you that understands swindlin' and imposition. + Well, ma'am—well, my dear ma'am, what next?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he then attempted to escape; but as I happened to have a stout ladle + in my hand, I thought a good basting wouldn't do him any harm, and while I + was layin' on him two sailors came in, and they took him out of my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of the frying-pan into the fire, you ought to say, Mrs. Mulroony.” + </p> + <p> + “So he and they fought, and smashed another lot of glass, and then I set + out and charged him on the watch. Oh, murdher sheery—to think the + way my beautiful beef and greens went!” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Ambrose, approaching Mrs. Mulroony, whispered—“My dear Mrs. + Mulroony, remember one word—futurity; heir apparent—heir + direct; so be moderate, and a short time will place you in easy + circumstances. The event that's coming will be a stunner.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that he's sayin' to you, my dear Mrs. Mulroony?” asked Ned; “don't + listen to him, he'll only soohdher and palaver you. I'll take your charge, + and lock him up.” + </p> + <p> + “Darby,” said Mr. Gray, now approaching that worthy, “a single word with + you—we understand one another—I intended to bribe old Ned, the + villain; but you shall have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, it's a bargain,” replied the virtuous Darby; “fork out.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, then, is ten shillings, and bring me out of it.” + </p> + <p> + Darby privately pocketed the money, and moving toward Ned, whispered to + him—“Don't take the charge for a few minutes. I'll fleece them both. + Amby has given me half-a-crown; another from her, and then, half and half + between us. Mrs. Mulroony, a word with you. Listen—do you wish to + succeed in this business?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do; why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if you do, slip me five shillings, or you're dished, like one + of your own-dinners, and that Amby Gray will slice you to pieces. Ned's + his friend at heart, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you'll see me rightified?” + </p> + <p> + “Hand the money, ma'am; do you know who you're speaking to? The senior of + the office.” + </p> + <p> + On receiving the money, the honest senior whispers to the honest officer + of the night—“A crown from both, that is, half from each; and now + act as you like; but if you take the widow's charge, we'll have a free + plate, at all events, whenever we call to see her, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Honest Ned, feeling indignant that he was not himself the direct recipient + of the bribes, and also anxious to win favor in the widow's eyes, took the + charge against Mr. Gray, who was very soon locked up, with the + “miscellanies,” in the black hole, until bail could be procured. + </p> + <p> + On finding that matters had gone against him, Gray, who, although + unaffected in speech, was yet rather tipsy, assumed a look of singular + importance, as if to console himself for the degradation he was about to + undergo; he composed his face into an expression that gave a ludicrous + travesty of dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, with a solemn swagger, nodding his head from side to side + as he spoke, in order to impress what he uttered with a more mysterious + emphasis—“you are all acting in ignorance, quite so; little you know + who the person is that's before you; but it doesn't signify—I am + somebody, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman in disguise,” said a voice from the black hole. “You'll find + some of your friends here.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my good fellow—you are perfectly right;” said + Ambrose, nodding with drunken gravity, as before; “high blood runs in my + veins, and time will soon tell that; I shall stand and be returned for the + town of Ballytrain, as soon as there comes a dissolution; I'm bent on + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! hurra! a very proper member you'll make for it,” from the black + hole. + </p> + <p> + “And I shall have the Augean stables of these corrupt offices swept of + their filth. Ned, the scoundrel, shall be sent to the right about; Mr. + Darby, for his honesty, shall have each wrist embraced by a namesake.” + </p> + <p> + Here he was shoved by Garvy, the watchman, head foremost into the black + hole, after having received an impulse from behind, kindly intended to + facilitate his ingress, which, notwithstanding his drunken ambition, the + boast of his high blood, and mighty promises, was made with extraordinary + want of dignity. + </p> + <p> + Although we have described this scene nearly in consecutive order, without + the breaks and interruptions which took place whilst it proceeded, yet the + reader should imagine to himself the outrage, the yelling, the clamor, the + by-battles, and scurrilous contests in the lowest description of + blackguardism with which it was garnished; thus causing it to occupy at + least four times the period we have ascribed to it. The simple-minded + priest, who could never have dreamt of such an exhibition, scarcely knew + whether he was asleep or awake, and sometimes asked himself whether it was + not some terrible phantasm by which he was startled and oppressed. The + horrible impress of naked and hardened villany—the light and + mirthful delirium of crime—the wanton manifestations of vice, in all + its shapes, and the unblushing front of debauchery and profligacy—constituted, + when brought together in one hideous group, a sight which made his heart + groan for human nature on the one hand, and the corruption of human law on + the other. + </p> + <p> + “The contamination of vice here,” said he to himself, “is so concentrated + and deadly, that innocence or virtue could not long resist its influence. + Alas! alas!” + </p> + <p> + Old Dunphy now made his appearance; but he had scarcely time to shake + hands with the priest, when he heard himself addressed from between the + bars of Gray's limbo, with the words, + </p> + <p> + “I say, old Corbet, or Dunphy, or whatever the devil they call you; here's + a relation of yours by the mother's side only, you old dog—mark + that; here I am, Ambrose Gray, a gentleman in disguise, as you well know; + and I want you to bail me out.” + </p> + <p> + “An' a respectable way you ax it,” said Dunphy, putting on his spectacles, + and looking at him through the bars. + </p> + <p> + “Respect! What, to a beggarly old huckster and kidnapper! Why, you + penurious slicer of musty bacon—you iniquitous dealer in light + weights—what respect are you entitled to from me? You know who I am—and + you must bail me. Otherwise never expect, when the time comes, that I + shall recognize you as a base relative, or suffer you to show your ferret + face in my presence.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the old man, bitterly; “the blood is in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight, my old potatomonger; as true as gospel, and a great deal truer. + The blood is in me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” replied the other, “the blood of the oppressor—the blood of + the villain—the blood of the unjust tyrant is in you, and nothing + else. If you had his power, you'd be what he is, and maybe, worse, if the + thing was possible. Now, listen; I'll make the words you just said to me + the bitterest and blackest to yourself that you ever spoke. That's the + last information I have for you; and as I know that you're just where you + ought to be, among the companions you are fit for, there I leave you.” + </p> + <p> + He then turned toward the priest, and left Gray to get bail where he + might. + </p> + <p> + When Skipton, the messenger, who returned with Dunphy, or Corbet, as we + shall in future call him, entered the watch-house, he drew Darby aside, + and held some private conversation with him, of which it was evident that + Corbet was the subject, from the significant glances which each turned + upon him from time to time. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, the old man, recognizing the priest rather by his voice + than his appearance, lost no time in acquainting the officers of justice + that they were completely mistaken in the individual. The latter had + briefly mentioned to him the circumstance and cause of his arrest. + </p> + <p> + “I want you,” said the priest, “to go to Sir Thomas Gourlay directly, and + tell him that I have his money and pistols quite safe, and that I was on + my way up to town with them, when this unpleasant mistake took place.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, your reverence,” said he, “without loss of time. I see,” he + added, addressing Darby and the others, “that you have made a mistake + here.” + </p> + <p> + “What mistake, my good man?” asked Darby. + </p> + <p> + “Why, simply, that instead of a robber, you have been sharp enough to take + up a most respectable Catholic clergyman from Ballytrain.” + </p> + <p> + “What,” said Darby, “a Popish priest! Curse me, but that's as good, if not + better, than the other thing. No Papist is allowed, under the penalty of a + felony, to carry arms, and here is a Popish priest travelling with + pistols. The other thing, Skipton, was only for the magistrates, but this + is a government affair.” + </p> + <p> + “He may be Finnerty, after all,” replied Skipton, aside; “this old fellow + is no authority as to his identity, as you may guess from what I told + you.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events,” replied Darby, “we shall soon know which he is—priest + or robber; but I hope, for our own sakes, he'll prove a priest on our + hands. At any rate the magistrates are now in the office, and it's full + time to bring his reverence up.” + </p> + <p> + Corbet, in the meantime, had gone to Sir Thomas Gourlay's with his + reverence's message, and in a few minutes afterwards the prisoner, + strongly guarded, was conducted to the police office. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. The Police Office + </h2> + <h3> + —Sir Spigot Sputter and Mr. Coke—An Unfortunate Translator—Decision + in “a Law Case.” + </h3> + <p> + It is not our intention to detail the history of occurrences that are + calculated to fill the mind with sorrow, not unmingled with disgust, or to + describe scenes that must necessarily lower our estimate of both man and + woman. On the bench sat two magistrates, of whom we may say that, from + ignorance of law, want of temper, and impenetrable stupidity, the whole + circle of commercial or professional life could not produce a pair more, + signally unqualified for the important offices they occupied. One of them, + named Sputter, Sir Spigot Sputter, was an old man, with a red face and + perpetual grin, whose white hair was cropped close; but in compensation + for this he wore powder and a queue, so that his head, except in vivacity + of motion, might not inappropriately be compared to an overgrown tadpole + struggling to get free from his shoulders, and escape to the nearest + marsh. He also wore a false eye, which gave him a perennial blink that was + sadly at variance with magisterial dignity. Indeed the consequences of it + were sometimes ludicrous enough. When, for instance, one of those syrens + who perambulate our fashionable streets after the sun has gone down, + happened to be brought up to answer some charge that came under his + jurisdiction, Sir Spigot's custom always was to put his glass to the safe + eye, and peer at her in the dock; which act, when taken in connection with + the grin and the droop of the glass eye, seemed to the spectators as if he + and she understood each other, and that the wink in question was a kind of + telegraphic dispatch sent to let her know that she had a friend on the + bench. Sir Spigot was deaf, too, a felicitous circumstance, which gave him + peculiar facility in the decision of his cases. + </p> + <p> + The name of his brother on the bench was Coke, who acted in the capacity + of what is termed a law magistrate. It is enough, however, to say, that he + was a thin man, with a long, dull face, a dull eye, a dull tongue, a dull + ear, and a dull brain. His talents for ambiguity were surprising, and it + always required a hint from the senior of the office, Darby, to enable him + to understand his own decisions. This, however, was not without some + beneficial consequences to the individuals before him; as it often + happened, that when he seemed to have committed some hardened offender, + after the infliction of a long, laborious, obscure harangue, he has + immediately ordered him to be discharged. And, on the contrary, when some + innocent individual heard with delight the sentence of the court + apparently, in his favor, judge of what he must have felt on finding + himself sent off to Newgate, Kilmainham, or the Penitentiary. In this + instance, however, the advantage to the public was nearly equal; for if + the guilty escaped in one case, so did the innocent in another. Here now + is where Darby became useful; for Darby, who was well acquainted with his + style, and with his meaning, when he had any, always interpreted his + decisions to him, and told him in a whisper, or on a slip of paper, + whether he had convicted the prisoner, or not. + </p> + <p> + We shall detail one case which occurred this morning. It happened that an + amiable and distinguished literary gentleman, an LL.D., and a barrister, + had lost from his library a book on which he placed great value, and he + found this book on a stall not very far from the office. On seeing the + volume he naturally claimed it, and the woman who had received it from the + thief, who was a servant, refused to give it up, unless the money she had + paid for it were returned to her. Neither would the wretch disclose the + name of the thief, but snapped her fingers in Dr. A——'s face, + saying she defied him, and that he could only bring her before Mr. Coke, + who, she knew very well, would see justice done her. She lived by buying + books, she said, and by selling books; and as he lived by writing books, + she thought it wasn't handsome of him to insult the profession by bringing + such a blackguard charge against them in her name. + </p> + <p> + He summoned her, however, and the case was one of the first called on the + morning in question. The receiver of the stolen book came forward, with + much assurance, as defendant, and modest Dr. A—— as plaintiff; + when Sir Spigot, putting his glass to his eye, and looking from the one to + the other with his wink and grin as usual, said to Darby: + </p> + <p> + “What is this man here for?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a law case, your worship,” replied the senior officer. + </p> + <p> + Coke, who sat solemn and silent, looked at the doctor, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, what is your case? Please to state it.” + </p> + <p> + The case, being a very plain and brief one, was soon stated, the woman's + reply was then heard, after which Mr. Coke looked graver than before, and + proceeded somewhat to the following effect: + </p> + <p> + “This is a case of deep interest to that important portion of the + bibiliopolist profession who vend their wares on stalls.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank your worship,” said the woman, with a courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “This most respectable body of persons, the booksellers—[another + courtesy from the woman]—are divided into several classes; first, + those who sell books in large and splendid shops; next, those who sell + them in shops of less pretension; thirdly, those who sell them on stalls + in thoroughfares, and at the corners of streets; fourthly, those who carry + them in baskets, and who pass from place to place, and combine with the + book-selling business that of flying stationer; and fifthly, those who do + not sell them at all, but only read them; and as those who read, unless + they steal or borrow, must purchase, I accordingly class them as + booksellers indirectly, inasmuch as if they don't sell books themselves, + they cause others to do so. For this reason it is evident that every man + living, and woman too, capable of reading a book, is a bookseller; so that + society at large is nothing but one great bookselling firm. + </p> + <p> + “Having thus established the immense extent and importance of the + business, I now proceed to the consideration of the case before us. To + steal a book is not in every case an offence against the law of libel, nor + against the law of arson, nor against the law of insurrection, nor against + the law of primogeniture; in fact, it is only against the law of theft—it + offends only one law—and is innocent with respect to all the others. + A person stealing a book could not be indicted under the statute of + limitations, for instance; except, indeed, in so far as he may be supposed + to limit the property of the person from whom he stole it. But on this + point the opinion of the learned Folderol would go pretty far, were it not + for the opinion of another great man, which I shall presently quote. + Folderol lays it down as a fixed principle in an able treatise upon the + law of weathercocks, that if property be stolen from an individual, + without the aggregate of that property suffering reduction or diminution, + he is not robbed, and the crime of theft has not been committed. The other + authority that I alluded to, is that of his great and equally celebrated + opponent, Tolderol, who lays it down on the other hand, that when a thief, + in the act of stealing, leaves more behind him than he found there at + first, so that the man stolen from becomes richer by the act of theft than + he had been before it, the crime then becomes <i>dupleis delicti</i>, or + one of harum-scarum, according to Doodle, and the thief deserves + transportation or the gallows. And the reason is obvious: if the property + of the person stolen from, under the latter category, were to be examined, + and that a larger portion of it was found there than properly had belonged + to him before the theft, he might be suspected of theft himself, and in + this case a double conviction of the parties would ensue; that is, of him + who did not take what he ought, and of him who had more than he was + entitled to. This opinion, which is remarkable for its perspicuity and + soundness, is to be found in the one hundred and second folio of + Logerhedius, tome six hundred, page 9768. + </p> + <p> + “There is another case bearing strongly upon the present one, in 'Snifter + and Snivell's Reports,' vol. 86, page 1480, in which an old woman, who was + too poor to purchase a Bible, stole one, and was prosecuted for the theft. + The counsel for the prosecution and the defence were both equally eminent + and able. Counsellor Sleek was for the prosecution and Rant for the + defence. Sleek, who was himself a religious barrister, insisted that the + <i>locus delicti</i> aggravated the offence, inasmuch as she had stolen + the Bible out of a church; but Rant maintained that the <i>locus delicti</i> + was a <i>prima facie</i> evidence of her innocence, inasmuch as she only + complied with a precept of religion, which enjoins all sinners to seek + such assistance toward their spiritual welfare as the church can afford + them. + </p> + <p> + “Sleek argued that the principle of theft must have been innate and + strong, when the respect due to that sacred edifice was insufficient to + restrain her from such an act—an act which constituted sacrilege of + a very aggravated kind. + </p> + <p> + “Rant replied, that the motive and not the act constituted the crime. + There was <i>prima facie</i> proof that she stole it for pious purposes—to + wit, that she might learn therefrom a correct principle for the conduct of + her life. It was not proved that the woman had sold the book, or pledged + it, or in any-other way disposed of it for her corporal or temporal + benefit; the inference, therefore, was, that the motive, in the first + place, justified the act, which was <i>in se</i> a pious one; and, + besides, had the woman been a thief, she would have stolen the plate and + linen belonging to the altar; but she did not, therefore there existed on + her part no consciousness nor intention of wrong. + </p> + <p> + “Sleek rejoined, that if the woman had felt any necessity for religious + advice and instruction, she would have gone to the minister, whose duty it + was to give it. + </p> + <p> + “Rant replied, that upon Sleek's own principles, if the minister had + properly discharged his duty, the woman would have been under no necessity + for taking the Bible at all; and that, consequently, in a strict spirit of + justice, the theft, if theft it could be called, was not the theft of the + old woman, but that of the minister himself, who had failed to give her + proper instructions. It was the duty of the minister to have gone to the + old woman, and not that of the old woman to have gone to the minister; + but, perhaps, had the woman been young and handsome, the minister might + have administered consolation. + </p> + <p> + “I find that Sleek here made a long speech about religion, which he + charged Rant with insulting; he regretted that a false humanity had + repealed some of those stringent but wholesome laws that had been enacted + for the preservation of holy things, and was truly sorry that this + sacrilegious old wretch could not be brought to the stake. He did not envy + his learned, friend the sneering contempt for religion that ran through + his whole argument. + </p> + <p> + “Rant bowed and smiled, and replied that, in his opinion, the only stake + the poor woman ought to be brought to was a beefsteak; for he always + wished to see the law administered with mercy. + </p> + <p> + “Sleek was not surprised at hearing such a carnal argument brought to the + defence of such a crime, and concluded by pressing for the severest + punishment the law could inflict against this most iniquitous criminal, + who—and he dared even Rant himself to deny the fact—came + before that court as an old offender; he therefore pressed for a + conviction against a person who had acted so flagrantly <i>contra bonos + mores</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Rant said, she could not or ought not to be convicted. This Bible was not + individual property; it was that of a parish that contained better than + eighteen thousand inhabitants. Now, if any individual were to establish + his right of property in the Bible, and she herself was a proprietress as + well as any of them, the amount would be far beneath any current coin of + the realm, consequently there existed no legal symbol of property for the + value of which a conviction could be had. + </p> + <p> + “As I perceive, however,” added Mr. Coke, “that the abstract of the + arguments in this important case runs to about five hundred pages, I shall + therefore recapitulate Judge Nodwell's charge, which has been considered a + very brilliant specimen of legal acumen and judicial eloquence. + </p> + <p> + “'This, gentlemen of the jury,' said his lordship,' is a case of + apparently some difficulty, and I cannot help admiring the singular talent + and high principles displayed by the learned counsel on both sides, who so + ably argued it. Of one thing I am certain, that no consciousness of + religious ignorance, no privation of religious knowledge, could ever + induce my learned friend Sleek to commit such a theft. Rather than do so, + I am sure he would be conscientious enough to pass through the world + without any religion at all. As it is, we all know that he is a great + light in that respect—' + </p> + <p> + “'He would be a burning light, too, my lord,' observed Rant. + </p> + <p> + “No; his reverence for the Bible is too great, too sincere to profane it + by such vulgar perusal as it may have received at the hands of that + destitute old woman, who probably thumbed it day and night, without regard + either to dog-ears or binding, or a consideration of how she was treating + the property of the parish. The fact, however, gentlemen, seems to be, + that the old woman either altogether forgot the institutions of society, + or resolved society itself in her own mind into first principles. Now, + gentlemen, we cannot go behind first principles, neither can we go behind + the old woman. We must keep her before us, but it is not necessary to keep + the Bible so. It has been found, indeed, that she did not sell, pledge, + bestow, or otherwise make the book subservient to her temporal or corporal + wants, as Mr. Rant very ingeniously argued. Neither did she take it to + place in her library—for she had no library; nor for ostentation in + her hall—for she had no hall, as my pious friend Counsellor Sleek + has. But, gentlemen, even if this old woman by reading the Bible learned + to repent, and felt conversion of heart, you are not to infer that the act + which brought her to grace and repentance may not have been a hardened + violation of the law. Beware of this error, gentlemen. The old woman by + stealing this Bible may have repented her of her sins, it is true; but it + is your business, gentlemen, to make her repent of the law also. The law + is as great a source of repentance as the Bible any day, and, I am proud + to say, has caused more human tears to be shed, and bitterer ones, too, + than the Word of God ever did. Even although justified in the sight of + heaven, it does not follow that this woman is to escape here. It is the + act, and not the heart, that the law deals with. The purity of her + motives, her repentance, are nothing to the law; but the law is everything + to the person in whom they operate; because, although the heart may be + innocent, the individual person must be punished. A penitent heart, or a + consciousness of the pardon of God, are not fit considerations for a + jury-box. You are, therefore, to exclude the motive, and to take nothing + into consideration but the act; for it is only that by which the law has + been violated. + </p> + <p> + “'But is there no such thing as mercy, my lord?' asked a juror. + </p> + <p> + “In the administration of the law there is such a fiction—a + beautiful negation, indeed—but we know that Justice always holds the + first place, and when she is satisfied, then we call in Mercy. Such, at + least, is the wholesome practice and constitutional spirit of British law. + I have now, gentlemen, rendered you every assistance in my power. If you + think this old woman guilty, you will find accordingly; if not, you will + give her the benefit of any doubt in her favor which you may entertain. + </p> + <p> + “The woman,” continued Coke, “was convicted, and here follows the sentence + of the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Martha Dotinghed—you have been convicted by the verdict of twelve + as intelligent and respectable gentlemen as I ever saw in a jury-box; + convicted, I am sorry to say, very properly, of a most heinous crime, that + of attempting to work out your salvation in an improper manner—to + wit, by making illegally free with the Word of God. + </p> + <p> + “'In troth, my lord,' replied the culprit, 'the Word of God is become so + scarce nowadays, that unless one steals it, they have but a poor chance of + coming by it honestly, or hearing it at all'.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been convicted, I say, notwithstanding a most able defence by + your counsel, who omitted no argument that could prove available for your + acquittal; and I am sorry to hear from your own lips, that you are in no + degree penitent for the crime you have committed. You say, the Word of God + is scarce nowadays—but that fact, unhappy woman, only aggravates + your guilt—for in proportion to the scarcity of the Word of God, so + is its value increased—and we all know that the greater the value of + that which is stolen, the deeper, in the eye of the law, is the crime of + the thief. Had you not given utterance to those impenitent expressions, + the court would have been anxious to deal mercifully with you. As it is, I + tell you to prepare for the heaviest punishment it can inflict, which is, + that you be compelled to read some one of the Commentaries upon the Book + you have stolen, once, at least, before you die, should you live so long, + and may God have mercy on you! + </p> + <p> + “Here the prisoner fell into strong hysterics, and was taken away in a + state of insensibility from the dock. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” proceeded Coke, closing the ponderous tome, “I read this case from + a feeling that it bears very strongly upon that before us. Saponificus, + the learned and animated civilian, in his reply to the celebrated treatise + of '<i>Rigramarolius de Libris priggatis,</i>' commonly called his <i>Essay + on Stolen Books</i>, asserts that there never yet was a book printed but + was more or less stolen; and society, he argues, in no shape, in none of + its classes—neither in the prison, lockup, blackhole, or + penitentiary—presents us with such a set of impenitents and + irreclaimable thieves as those who write books. Theft is their profession, + and gets them the dishonest bread by which they live. These may always + read the eighth commandment by leaving the negative out, and then take it + in an injunctive sense. Such persons, in prosecuting another for stealing + a book, cannot come into court with clean hands. Felons in literature, + therefore, appear here with a very bad grace in prosecuting others for the + very crime which they themselves are in the habit of committing.” + </p> + <p> + “But, your worship,” said Dr. A——, “this charge against + authors cannot apply to me; the book in question is a translation.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” exclaimed Coke, “only a translation! But even so, has it notes or + comments?” + </p> + <p> + “It has, your worship; but they—” + </p> + <p> + “And, sir, could you declare solemnly, that there is nothing stolen in the + notes and comments, or introduction, if there is any?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, “Ehem! hem!” + </p> + <p> + “But in the meantime,” proceeded Coke, “here have I gone to the trouble of + giving such a profound decision upon a mere translation! Who is the + translator?” + </p> + <p> + “I am myself, your worship; and in this case I am both plaintiff and + translator.” + </p> + <p> + “That, however,” said Coke, shaking his head solemnly, “makes the case + against you still worse.” + </p> + <p> + “But, your worship, there is no case against me. I have already told you + that I am plaintiff and translator; and, with great respect, I don't think + you have yet given any decision whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “I have decided, sir,” replied Coke, “and taken the case I read for you as + a precedent.” + </p> + <p> + “But in that case, your worship, the woman was convicted.” + </p> + <p> + “And so she is in this, sir,” replied Coke. “Officer, put Biddy Corcoran + forward. Biddy Corcoran, you are an old woman, which, indeed, is evident + from the nature of your offence, and have been convicted of the egregious + folly of purchasing a translation, which this gentleman says was compiled + or got up by himself. This is conduct which the court cannot overlook, + inasmuch as if it were persisted in, we might, God help us, become + inundated with translations. I am against translations—I have ever + been against them, and I shall ever be against them. They are immoral in + themselves, and render the same injury to literature that persons of loose + morals do to society. In general, they are nothing short of a sacrilegious + profanation of the dead, and I would almost as soon see the ghost of a + departed friend as the translation of a defunct author, for they bear the + same relation. The regular translator, in fact, is nothing less than a + literary ghoul, who lives upon the mangled carcasses of the departed—a + mere sack-'em-up, who disinters the dead, and sells their remains for + money. You, sir, might have been better and more honestly employed than in + wasting your time upon a translation. These are works that no men or class + of men, except bishops, chandlers, and pastrycooks, ought to have anything + to do with; and as you, I presume, are not a bishop, nor a chandler, nor a + pastrycook, I recommend you to spare your countrymen in future. Biddy + Corcoran, as the court is determined to punish you severely, the penalty + against you is, that you be compelled to read the translation in question + once a week for the next three months. I had intended to send you to the + treadmill for the same space of time: but, on looking more closely into + the nature of your offence, I felt it my duty to visit you with a much + severer punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “That, your worship,” replied the translator, “is no punishment at all; + instead of that, it will be a pleasure to read my translation, and as you + have pronounced her to be guilty, it goes in the very teeth of your + decision.” + </p> + <p> + “What—what—what kind of language is this, sir?” exclaimed Sir + Spigot Sputter! “This is disrespect to the court, sir. In the teeth of his + decision! His worship's decision, sir, has no teeth.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, on second thoughts, I think not, sir,” replied, the indignant wit + and translator; “it is indeed a very toothless decision, and exceedingly + appropriate in passing sentence upon an old woman in the same state.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh—eh,” said Sir Spigot, “which old woman? who do you mean, sir? + Yourself or the culprit? Eh? eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Your worship forgets that there are four of us,” replied the translator. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir! well, sir! But as to the culprit—that old woman there—having + no teeth, that is not her fault,” replied Sir Spigot; “if she hasn't + teeth, she has gum enough—eh! eh! you must admit that, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You all appear to have gum enough,” replied the wit, “and nothing but + gum, only it is gum arabic to me, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “You have treated this court with disrespect, sir,” said Coke, very + solemnly; “but the court will uphold its dignity. In the meantime you are + fined half-a-crown.” + </p> + <p> + “But, your worship,” whispered Darby, “this is the celebrated Dr. A——, + a very eminent man.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just heard, sir,” proceeded Coke, “from the senior officer of the + court, that you are a very eminent man; it may be so, and I am very sorry + for it. I have never heard your name, however, nor a syllable of your + literary reputation, before; but as it seems you are an eminent man, I + take it for granted that it must be in a private and confidential way + among your particular friends. I will fine you, however, another + half-crown for the eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen,” replied the doctor, “I have heard of many 'wise saws + and modern instances,' but—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, sir?” said Sir Spigot. “Another insult! You asserted, + sir, already, that Mr. Coke's decision had teeth—” + </p> + <p> + “But I admitted my error,” replied the other. + </p> + <p> + “And now you mean to insinuate, I suppose, that his worship's saws are + handsaws. You are fined another half-crown, sir, for the handsaw.” + </p> + <p> + “And another,” said Coke, “for the <i>gum arabic</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor fearing that the fines would increase thick and threefold, + forthwith paid them all, and retired indignantly from the court. + </p> + <p> + And thus was the author of certainly one of the most beautiful + translations in any language, at least in his own opinion, treated by + these two worthy administrators of the law. (* A fact.) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. The Priest Returns Sir Thomas's Money and Pistols + </h2> + <h3> + —A Bit of Controversy—A New Light Begins to Appear. + </h3> + <p> + Very fortunately for the priest he was not subjected to an examination + before these worthies. Sir Thomas Gourlay, having heard of his arrest and + the cause of it, sent a note with his compliments, to request that he + might be conducted directly to his residence, together with his + pocket-book and pistols, assuring them, at the same time, that their + officers had committed a gross mistake as to his person. + </p> + <p> + This was quite sufficient, and ere the lapse of twenty minutes Father + M'Mahon, accompanied by Skipton and another officer, found himself at the + baronet's hall-door. On entering the hall, Sir Thomas himself was in the + act of passing from the breakfast parlor to his study above stairs, + leaning upon the arm of Gibson, the footman, looking at the same time + pale, nervous, and unsteady upon his limbs. The moment Skipton saw him, he + started, and exclaimed, as if to himself, but loud enough for the priest + to hear him: + </p> + <p> + “'Gad! I've seen him before, once upon a time; and well I remember the + face, for it is not one to be forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet, on looking round, saw the priest, and desired him to follow + them to his study. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas,” said the officer, “we now place his + reverence safely in your hands; here, too, is your pocket-book and + pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “Hand them to him, sir,” replied the baronet, nodding toward the priest; + “and that is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Sir Thomas—” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, sir? Have you not done your duty?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, sir; but if it would not be troublesome, sir, perhaps you + would give us a receipt; an acknowledgment, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “For the priest's body, sir, in the first place, and then for the + pocket-book and pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were a little stronger,” replied the baronet, in an angry voice, “I + would write the receipt upon your own body with a strong horsewhip; + begone, you impudent scoundrel!” + </p> + <p> + Skipton turned upon him a bitter and vindictive look, and replied, “Oh, + very well, sir—come, Tom, you are witness that I did my duty.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas on entering the study threw himself listlessly on a sofa, and + desired Gibson to retire. + </p> + <p> + “Take a seat, sir,” said he, addressing Father M'Mahon. “I am far from + well, and must rest a little before I speak to you; I know not what is the + matter with me, but I feel all out of sorts.” + </p> + <p> + He then drew a long breath, and laid his head upon his hand, as if to + recover more clearly the powers of his mind and intellect. His eyes, full + of thought not unmingled with anxiety, were fixed upon the carpet, and he + seemed for a time wrapped in deep and painful abstraction. At length he + raised himself up, and drawing his breath apparently with more freedom + began the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said he, in a tone that implied more of authority and + haughtiness than of courtesy or gentlemanly feeling; “it seems the + property of which I have been robbed has come into your possession.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, sir; and allow me to place it in your own hands exactly as I + got it. I took the precaution to seal the pocket-book the moment it was + returned to me, and although it was for a short time in possession of the + officers of justice, yet it is untouched, and the seal I placed on it + unbroken.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet's hand, as he took the pocket-book, trembled with an agitation + which he could not repress, although he did everything in his power to + subdue it: his eye glittered with animation, or rather with delight, as he + broke the seal. + </p> + <p> + “It was very prudently and correctly done of you, sir, to seal up the + pocket-book; very well done, indeed: and I am much obliged to you so far, + although we must have some conversation upon the matter immediately—” + </p> + <p> + “I only did what, as a Catholic clergyman, Sir Thomas, and an honest man, + I conceived to be my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “What—what—what's this?” exclaimed the baronet, his eye + blazing with rage and disappointment. “In the name of hell's fire, sir, + what is this? My money is not all here! There is a note, sir, a one pound + note wanting; a peculiar note, sir; a marked note; for I always put a + marked note among my money, to provide against the contingency of such a + robbery as I sustained. Pray, sir, what has become of that note? I say, + priest, the whole pocket-book ten times multiplied, was not worth a fig + compared with the value I placed upon that note.” + </p> + <p> + “How much did you lose, Sir Thomas?” asked the priest calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I lost sixty-nine pounds, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” continued the other, “would it not be well to see whether + that sum is in the pocket-book. You have not yet reckoned the money.” + </p> + <p> + “The note I speak of was in a separate compartment; in a different fold of + the book; apart from the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps it has got among them? Had you not better try, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied the other; and with eager and trembling hands he examined + them note by note; but not finding that for which he sought, he stamped + with rage, and dashing the pocket-book, notes and all, against the floor, + he ground his teeth, and approaching the priest with the white froth of + passion rising to his lips, exclaimed, “Hark you, priest, if you do not + produce the missing note, I shall make you bitterly repent it! You know + where it is, sir! You could understand from the note itself—” He + paused, however, for he felt at once that he might be treading dangerous + ground in entering into particulars. “I say, sir,” he proceeded, with a + look of menace and fury, “if you refuse to produce the note I speak of, or + to procure it for me, I shall let you know to your cost what the power of + British law can effect.” + </p> + <p> + The priest rose up with dignity, his cheek heightened with that slight + tinge, which a sense of unmerited insult and a consciousness of his own + integrity render natural to man—so long as he is a man. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay,” he proceeded, “upon your conduct and want of + gentlemanly temper since I have entered this apartment it is not my + intention to make any comment; but I need not tell you that the minister + of God is received in Christian society with the respect due to his sacred + office.” + </p> + <p> + “Minister of the devil, sir,” thundered the baronet; “do you think that I + shall be influenced by this slavish cant? Where is the note I speak of? If + you do not produce it, I shall consider you an accomplice after the fact, + and will hold you responsible as such. Remember, you are but a Popish + priest.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a fact, sir, which I shall always recollect with an humble sense + of my own unworthiness; but so long as I discharge its duties + conscientiously and truly, I shall also recollect it with honor. Of the + note you allude to in such unbecoming words, I know nothing; and as to + your threats, I value them not.” + </p> + <p> + “If you know nothing of the note, sir, you do certainly of the robber.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, Sir Thomas; I know who the man is that robbed you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” replied the other, triumphantly, “I am glad you have + acknowledged so much. I shall force you to produce him. At least I shall + take care that the law will make you do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay, I beg you to understand that there is a law beyond + and above your law—the law of God—the law of Christian duty; + and that you shall never force me to transgress. The man who robbed you in + a moment of despair and madness, repented him of the crime; and the + knowledge of that crime, and its consequent repentance were disclosed to + me in one of the most holy ordinances of our religion.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it one of the privileges of your religion to throw its veil over the + commission of crime? If so, the sooner your religion is extirpated out of + the land the better for society.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, our religion does not throw its veil over the criminal, but over + the penitent. We leave the laws of the land to their own resources, and + aid them when we can; but in the case before us, and in all similar cases, + we are the administrators of the laws of God to those who are truly + penitent, and to none others. The test of repentance consists in + reformation of life, and in making restitution to those who have been + injured. The knowledge of this comes to us in administering the sacred + ordinance of penance in the tribunal of confession; and sooner than + violate this solemn compact between the mercy of God and a penitent heart, + we would willingly lay down our lives. It is the most sacred of all + trusts.” + </p> + <p> + “Such an ordinance, sir, is a bounty and provocative to crime.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a bounty and provocative to repentance, sir; and society has gained + much and lost nothing by its operation. Remember, sir, that those who do + not repent, never come to us to avow their crimes, in which case we are + ignorant both of the crime and criminal. Here there is neither repentance, + on the one hand, nor restitution, on the other, and society, of course, + loses everything and gains nothing. In the other case, the person + sustaining the injury gains that which he had lost, and society a penitent + and reformed member. If, then, this sacred refuge for the penitent—not + for the criminal, remember—had no existence, those restitutions of + property which take place in thousands of cases, could never be made.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, sir, you shield the criminal from his just punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; we never shield the criminal from his just punishment. God has + promised mercy to him who repents, and we merely administer it without any + reference to the operation of the law. It often happens, Sir Thomas + Gourlay, that a person who has repented and made restitution, is taken + hold of by the law and punished. This ordinance, therefore, does not stand + between the law and its victim; it only deals between him and his God, + leaving him, like any other offender, to the law he has violated.” + </p> + <p> + “I am no theologian, sir; but without any reference to your priestly cant, + I simply say, that the man who is cognizant of another's crime against the + law, either of God or man, and who will shield him from justice, is <i>particeps + criminis</i>, and I don't care a fig what your obsolete sacerdotal dogmas + may assert to the contrary. You say you know the man who unjustly deprived + me of my property; if then, acknowledging this, you refuse to deliver him + up to justice, I hold you guilty of his crime. Suppose he had taken my + life, as he was near doing, how, pray, would you have made restitution? + Bring me to life again, I suppose, by a miracle. Away, sir, with this + cant, which is only fit for the barbarity of the dark ages, when your + church was a mass of crime, cruelty, and ignorance; and when a cunning and + rapacious priesthood usurped an authority over both soul and body, ay, and + property too, that oppressed and degraded human nature.” + </p> + <p> + “I will reason no longer with you, sir,” replied the priest; “because you + talk in ignorance of the subject we are discussing—but having now + discharged an important duty, I will take my leave.” + </p> + <p> + “You may of me,” replied the other; “but you will not so readily shift + yourself out of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Any charge, sir, which either law or Justice may bring against me, I + shall be ready to meet; and I now, for your information, beg to let you + know that the law you threaten me with affords its protection to me and + the class to which I belong, in the discharge of this most sacred and + important trust. Your threats, Sir Thomas, consequently, I disregard.” + </p> + <p> + “The more shame for it if it does,” replied the baronet; “but, hark you, + sir, I do not wish, after all, that you and I should part on unfriendly + terms. You refuse to give up the robber?” + </p> + <p> + “I would give up my life sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “But could you not procure me the missing note?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the missing note, Sir Thomas Gourlay, I know nothing. I consequently + neither can nor will make any promise to restore it.” + </p> + <p> + “You may tell the robber from me,” pursued the baronet, “that I will give + him the full amount of his burglary, provided he restores me that note. + The other sixty-nine pounds shall be his on that condition, and no + questions asked.” + </p> + <p> + “I have already told you, sir, that it was under the seal of confession + the knowledge of the crime came to me. Out of that seal I cannot revert to + the subject without betraying my trust; for, if he acknowledged his guilt + to me under any other circumstances, it would become my duty to hand him + over to the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Curse upon all priests!” said the other indignantly; “they are all the + same; a crew of cunning scoundrels, who attempt to subjugate the ignorant + and the credulous to their sway; a pack of spiritual swindlers, who get + possession of the consciences of the people through pious fraud, and then + make slavish instruments of them for their own selfish purposes. In the + meantime I shall keep my eye upon you, Mr. M'Mahon, and, believe me, if I + can get a hole in your coat I shall make a rent of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a poor privilege, sir, that of insulting the defenceless. You know + I am doubly so—defenceless from age, defenceless in virtue of my + sacred profession; but if I am defenceless against your insults, Sir + Thomas Gourlay, I am not against your threats, which I despise and defy. + The integrity of my life is beyond your power, the serenity of my + conscience beyond your vengeance. You are not of my flock, but if you + were, I would say, Sir Thomas, I fear you are a bold, bad man, and have + much to repent of in connection with your past and present life—much + reparation to make to your fellow-creatures. Yes; I would say, Sir Thomas + Gourlay, the deep tempest of strong passions within you has shaken your + powerful frame until it totters to its fall. I would say, beware; repent + while it is time, and be not unprepared for the last great event. That + event, Sir Thomas, is not far distant, if I read aright the foreshadowing + of death and dissolution that is evident in your countenance and frame. I + speak these words in, I trust, a charitable and forgiving spirit. May they + sink into your heart, and work it to a sense of Christian feeling and + duty! + </p> + <p> + “This I would say were you mine—this I do say, knowing that you are + not; for my charity goes beyond my church, and embraces my enemy as well + as my friend;” and as he spoke he prepared co go. + </p> + <p> + “You may go, sir,” replied the baronet, with a sneer of contempt, “only + you have mistaken your man. I am no subject for your craft—not to be + deceived by your hypocrisy—and laugh to scorn your ominous but + impotent croaking. Only before you go, remember the conditions I have + offered the scoundrel who robbed me; and if the theological intricacies of + your crooked creed will permit you, try and get him to accept them. It + will be better for him, and better for you too. Do this, and you may cease + to look upon Sir Thomas Gourlay as an enemy.” + </p> + <p> + The priest bowed, and without returning any reply left the apartment and + took his immediate departure. + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas, after he had gone, went to the glass and surveyed himself + steadily. The words of the priest were uttered with much solemnity and + earnestness; but withal in such a tone of kind regret and good feeling, + that their import and impressiveness were much heightened by this very + fact. + </p> + <p> + “There is certainly a change upon me, and not one for the better,” he said + to himself; “but at the same time the priest, cunning as he is, has been + taken in by appearances. I am just sufficiently changed in my looks to + justify and give verisimilitude to the game I am playing. When Lucy hears + of my illness, which must be a serious one, nothing on earth will keep her + from me; and if I cannot gain any trace to her residence, a short + paragraph in the papers, intimating and regretting the dangerous state of + my health, will most probably reach her, and have the desired effect. If + she were once back, I know that, under the circumstances of my illness, + and the impression that it has been occasioned by her refusal to marry + Dunroe, she will yield; especially as I shall put the sole chances of my + recovery upon her compliance. Yet why is it that I urge her to an act + which will probably make her unhappy during life? But it will not. She is + not the fool her mother was; and yet I am not certain that her mother was + a fool either. We did not agree; we could not. She always refused to + coincide with me almost in everything; and when I wished to teach Lucy the + useful lessons of worldly policy, out came her silly maxims of conscience, + religion, and such stuff. But yet religious people are the best. I have + always found it so. That wretched priest, for instance, would give up his + life sooner than violate what he calls—that is, what he thinks—his + duty. There must be some fiction, however, to regulate the multitude; and + that fiction must be formed by, and founded on, the necessities of + society. That, unquestionably, is the origin of all law and all religion. + Only religion uses the stronger and the wiser argument, by threatening us + with another world. Well done, religion! You acted upon a fixed principle + of nature. The force of the enemy we see not may be magnified and + exaggerated; the enemy we see not we fear, especially when described in + the most terrible colors by men who are paid for their misrepresentations, + although these same impostors have never seen the enemy they speak of + themselves. But the enemy we see we can understand and grapple with; ergo, + the influence of religion over law; ergo, the influence of the priest, who + deals in the imaginary and ideal, over the legislator and the magistrate, + who deal only in the tangible and real. Yes, this indeed, is the + principle. How we do fear a ghost! What a shiver, what a horror runs + through the frame when we think we see one; and how different is this from + our terror of a living enemy. Away, then, with this imposture, I will none + of it. Yet hold: what was that I saw looking into the window of the + carriage that contained my brother's son? What was it? Why a form created + by my own fears. That credulous nurse, old mother Corbet, stuffed me so + completely with superstition when I was young and cowardly, that I cannot, + in many instances, shake myself free from it yet. Even the words of that + priest alarmed me for a moment. This, however, is merely the weakness of + human nature—the effect of unreal phantasms that influence the + reason while we are awake, just as that of dreams does the imagination + while we are asleep. Away, then, ye idle brood! I will none of you.” + </p> + <p> + He then sat himself down on the sofa, and rang for Gibson, but still the + train of thought pursued him. + </p> + <p> + “As to Lucy, I think it is still possible to force her into the position + for which I destined her—quite possible. She reasons like a girl, of + course, as I told her. She reasons like a girl who looks upon that silly + nonsense called love as the great business of life; and acts accordingly. + Little she thinks, however, that love—her love—his love—both + their loves—will never meet twelve months after what is termed the + honey-moon. No, they will part north and south. And yet the honey-moon has + her sharp ends, as well as every other moon. When love passes away, she + will find that the great business of life is, to make as many as she can + feel that she is above them in the estimation of the world; to impress + herself upon her equals, until they shall be forced to acknowledge her + superiority. And although this may be sometimes done by intellect and + principle, yet, in the society in which she must move, it is always done + by rank, by high position, and by pride, that jealous vindictive pride + which is based upon the hatred of our kind, and at once smiles and scorns. + What would I be if I were not a baronet? Sir Thomas Gourlay passes where + Mr. Gourlay would be spurned. This is the game of life, and we shall play + it with the right weapons. Many a cringing scoundrel bows to the baronet + who despises the man; and for this reason it is that I have always made + myself to be felt to some purpose, and so shall Lucy, if I should die for + it. I hate society, because I know that society hates me; and for that + reason I shall so far exalt her, that she will have the base compound at + her feet, and I shall teach her to scorn and trample upon it. If I thought + there were happiness in any particular rank of life, I would not press + her; but I know there is not, and for that reason she loses nothing, and + gains the privilege—the power—of extorting homage from the + proud, the insolent, and the worthless. This is the triumph she shall and + must enjoy.” + </p> + <p> + Gibson then entered, and the baronet, on hearing his foot, threw himself + into a languid and invalid attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Gibson,” said he, “I am very unwell; I apprehend a serious attack of + illness.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust not, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “If any person should call, I am ill, observe, and not in a condition to + see them.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless you should suspect, or ascertain, that it is some person on behalf + of Miss Gourlay; and even then, mark, I am very ill indeed, and you do not + think me able to speak to any one; but will come in and see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; certainly sir.” + </p> + <p> + “There, then, that will do.” + </p> + <p> + The priest, on leaving the baronet's residence, was turning his steps + toward the hotel in which the stranger had put up, when his messenger to + Constitution Hill approaching put his hand to his hat, and respectfully + saluted him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” said he, “and I am sorry, now that I know who + you are, for the trouble you got into.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my friend,” said the priest; “I felt it wouldn't signify, + knowing in my conscience that I was no robber. In the meantime, I got one + glimpse of your metropolitan life, as they call it, and the Lord knows I + never wish to get another. Troth, I was once or twice so confounded with + the noise and racket, that I thought I had got into purgatory by mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, sir, that's nothing,” replied Skipton; “we were very calm and + peaceable this morning; but with respect to that baronet, he's a niggardly + fellow. Only think of him, never once offering us the slightest + compensation for bringing him home his property! There's not another man + in Ireland would send us off empty-handed as he did. The thing's always + usual on recovering property.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak for yourself, in the singular number, if you plaise; you don't + imagine that I wanted compensation.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, certainly not; but I'm just thinking,” he added, after curiously + examining Father M'Mahon's face for some time, “that you and I met before + somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the memory you have?” said the priest, “when you ought to + recollect that we met this morning, much against my will, I must say.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean that,” said the man; “but I think I saw you once in a + lunatic asylum.” + </p> + <p> + “Me, in a lunatic asylum?” exclaimed the good priest, somewhat + indignantly. “The thing's a bounce, my good man, before you go farther. + The little sense I've had has been sufficient, thank goodness, to keep me + free from such establishments.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean that, sir,” replied the other, smiling, “but if I don't + mistake, you once brought a clergyman of our persuasion to the lunatic + asylum in ———.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, indeed,” returned the priest; “poor Quin. His was a case of + monomania; he imagined himself a gridiron, on which all heretics were to + be roasted. That young man was one of the finest scholars in the three + kingdoms. But how do you remember that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why for good reasons; because I was a servant in the establishment at the + time. Well,” he added, pausing, “it is curious enough that I should have + seen this very morning three persons I saw in that asylum.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had been much longer in that watch-house,” replied the other, “I'm + not quite certain but I'd soon be qualified to pay a permanent visit to + some of them. Who were the three persons you saw there, in the mane time?” + </p> + <p> + “That messenger of yours was one of them, and that niggardly baronet was + the other; yourself, as I said, making the third.” + </p> + <p> + The priest looked at him seriously; “you mane Corbet,” said he, “or Dunphy + as he is called?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. He and the baron brought a slip of a boy there; and, upon my + conscience, I think there was bad work between them. At all events, poor + Mr. Quin and he were inseparable. The lad promised that he would allow + himself to be roasted, the very first man, upon the reverend gridiron;—and! + for that reason Quin took him into hand; and gave him an excellent + education.” + </p> + <p> + “And no one,” replied the priest, “was better qualified to do it. But what + bad work do you suspect between Corbet and the baronet?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I have my suspicions,” replied the man. “It's not a month since I + heard that the son of that very baronet's brother, who was heir to the + estate and titles, disappeared, and has never been heard of since. Now, + all the water in the sea wouldn't wash the pair of them clear of what I + suspect, which is—that both had a hand in removing that boy. The + baronet was a young man at the time, but he has a face that no one could + ever forget. As for Corbet, I remember him well, as why shouldn't I? he + came there often. I'll take my oath it would be a charity to bring the + affair to light.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think the boy is there still?” asked the priest, suppressing all + appearance of the interest which he felt. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the other, “he escaped about two or three years ago; but, + poor lad, when it was discovered that he led too easy a life, and had got + educated, his treatment was changed; a straight waistcoat was put on him, + and he was placed in solitary confinement. At first he was no more mad + than I am; but he did get occasionally mad afterwards. I know he attempted + suicide, and nearly cut his throat with a piece of glass one day that his + hands got loose while they were changing his linen. Old Rivet died, and + the establishment was purchased by Tickleback, who, to my own knowledge, + had him regularly scourged.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did he escape, do you know?” inquired the priest. + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you that, too, maybe,” replied Skipton; “but I think, sir, I + have told you enough for the present. If that young man is living, I would + swear that he ought to stand in Sir Thomas Gourlay's shoes. And now do you + think, sir,” he inquired, coming at last to the real object of his + communication, “that if his right could be made clear, any one who'd help + him to his own mightn't expect to be made comfortable for life?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think there's a doubt about it,” replied the priest. “The + property is large, and he could well afford to be both generous and + grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” returned the man, “that he is both one and the other, if he had + it in his power.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the priest, seriously; “mark my words—this may be the + most fortunate day you ever saw. In the mane time, keep a close mouth. The + friends of that identical boy are on the search for him this moment. They + had given him up for dead; but it is not long since they discovered that + he was living. I will see you again on this subject.” + </p> + <p> + “I am now a constable,” said the man, “attached to the office you were in + to-day, and I can be heard of any time.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied the priest, “you shall hear either from me or from + some person interested in the recovery of the boy that's lost.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. Lucy calls upon Lady Gourlay, where she meets her Lover + </h2> + <h3> + Sir Thomas, who shams Illness, is too sharp for Mrs. Mainwaring, who + visits Him—Affecting interview between Lucy and Lady Gourlay + </h3> + <p> + Lucy Gourlay, anxious to relieve her father's mind as much as it was in + her power to do, wrote to him the day after the visit of Ensign Roberts + and old Sam to Summerfield Cottage. Her letter was affectionate, and even + tender, and not written without many tears, as was evident by the blots + and blisters which they produced upon the paper. She fully corroborated + the stranger's explanation to her father; for although ignorant at the + time that an interview had taken place between them, she felt it to be her + duty toward all parties to prevent, as far as her testimony could go, the + possibility of any misunderstanding upon the subject. This letter was + posted in Dublin, from an apprehension lest the local post-office might + furnish a clew to her present abode. The truth was, she feared that if her + father could trace her out, he would claim her at once, and force her home + by outrage and violence. In this, however, she was mistaken; he had fallen + upon quite a different and far more successful plan for that purpose. He + knew his daughter well, and felt that if ever she might be forced to + depart from those strong convictions of the unhappiness that must result + from a union between baseness and honor, it must be by an assumption of + tenderness and affection toward her, as well as by a show of submission, + and a concession of his own will to hers. This was calculating at once + upon her affection and generosity. He had formed this plan before her + letter reached him, and on perusing it, he felt still more determined to + make this treacherous experiment upon her very virtues—thus most + unscrupulously causing them to lay the groundwork of her own permanent + misery. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Mrs. Mainwaring, having much confidence in the effect + which a knowledge of her disclosure must, as she calculated, necessarily + produce on the ambitious baronet, resolved to lose no time in seeing him. + On the evening before she went, however, the following brief conversation + took place between her and Lucy: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lucy,” said she, “a thought has just struck me. Your situation, + excepting always your residence with us, is one of both pain and + difficulty. I am not a woman who has ever been much disposed to rely on my + own judgment in matters of importance.” + </p> + <p> + “But there, my dear Mrs. Mainwaring, you do yourself injustice.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear child.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is your thought?” asked Lucy, who felt some unaccountable + apprehension at what her friend was about to say. + </p> + <p> + “You tell me that neither you nor your aunt, Lady Gourlay, have ever met.” + </p> + <p> + “Never, indeed,” replied Lucy; “nor do I think we should know each other + if we did.” + </p> + <p> + “Then suppose you were, without either favor or ceremony, to call upon her—to + present yourself to her in virtue of your relationship—in virtue of + her high character and admirable principles—in virtue of the painful + position in which you are placed—to claim the benefit of her + experience and wisdom, and ask her to advise you as she would a daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's eyes glistened with delight, and, stooping down, she imprinted a + kiss upon the forehead of her considerate and kind friend. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear Mrs. Mainwaring,” she exclaimed: “a thousand thanks + for that admirable suggestion. Many a time has my heart yearned to know + that extraordinary woman, of whose virtues the world talks so much, and + whose great and trusting spirit even sorrow and calamity cannot prostrate. + Yes, I will follow your advice; I will call upon her; for, even setting + aside all selfish considerations, I should wish to know her for her own + worth.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then; I am going in to see your father to-morrow—had you + not better come with me? I shall leave you at her house, and can call for + you after my interview with him shall have been concluded. I shall order a + chaise from the hotel to be with us in the morning, so that you may run + little or no risk of being seen or known.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be delightful,” replied Lucy; “for I am sure Lady Gourlay will + be a kind and affectionate friend to me. In seeking her acquaintance—may + I hope, her friendship—I am not conscious of violating any command + or duty. Ever since I recollect, it was a well-known fact, that the + families, that is to say, my father and uncle, never met, nor visited—mamma + knew, of course, that to keep up an intimacy, under such circumstances, + would occasion much domestic disquietude. This is all I know about it; but + I never remember having heard any injunction not to visit.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Mrs. Mainwaring; “such an injunction would resemble that of + a man who should desire his child not to forget to rise next morning, or, + to be sure to breathe through his lungs. I can very well understand why + such a prohibition was never given in that case. Well, then, we shall + start pretty early in the morning, please God; but remember that you must + give me a full detail of your reception and interview.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, about the hour of two o'clock, a chaise drew up at the + residence of Lady Gourlay, and on the hall-door being opened, a steady, + respectable-looking old footman made his appearance at the chaise door, + and, in reply to their inquiries, stated, “that her ladyship had been out + for some time, but was then expected every moment.” + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” said Lucy, in some perplexity; “or how am I to + bestow myself if she does not return soon?” + </p> + <p> + “We expect her ladyship every moment, madam,” replied the man; “and if you + will have the goodness to allow me to conduct you to the drawing-room, you + will not have to wait long—I may assure you of that.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better go in, my dear,” said Mrs. Mainwaring, “and I shall call + for you in about an hour, or, perhaps, a little better.” + </p> + <p> + It was so arranged, and Lucy went in accordingly. + </p> + <p> + We must now follow Mrs. Mainwaring, who, on inquiring if she could see Sir + Thomas Gourlay, was informed by Gibson, who had got his cue, that he was + not in a condition to see any one at present. + </p> + <p> + “My business is somewhat important,” replied Mrs. Mainwaring, with a good + deal of confidence in the truth of what she said. + </p> + <p> + Gibson, however, approached her, and, with the air of a man who was in + possession of the secrets of the family, said, “Perhaps, ma'am, you come + on behalf of Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever my business may be,” she replied, indignantly, “be it important + or otherwise, I never communicate it through the medium of a servant; I + mean you no offence,” she proceeded; “but as I have already stated that it + is of importance, I trust that will be sufficient for the present.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, ma'am,” replied Gibson, “I only put the question by Sir + Thomas's express orders. His state of health is such, that unless upon + that subject he can see no one. I will go to him, however, and mention + what you have said. He is very ill, however, exceedingly ill, and I fear + will not be able to see you; but I shall try.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas was seated upon a sofa reading some book or other, when Gibson + reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Gibson, who is this?” + </p> + <p> + “A lady, sir; and she says she wishes to see you on very important + business.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!—do you think it anything connected with Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “I put the question to her, sir,” replied the other, “and she bridled a + good deal—I should myself suppose it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, throw me over my dressing-gown and nightcap; here, pull it up + behind, you blockhead;—there now—how do I look?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, ahem, a little too much in health, Sir Thomas, if it could be + avoided.” + </p> + <p> + “But, you stupid rascal, isn't that a sign of fever? and isn't my + complaint fulness about the head—a tendency of blood there? That + will do now; yes, the plethoric complexion to a shade; and, by the way, it + is no joke either. Send her up now.” + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Mainwaring entered, the worthy invalid was lying incumbent upon + the sofa, his head raised high upon pillows, with his dressing-gown and + night-cap on, and his arms stretched along by his sides, as if he were + enduring great pain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Norton,” said he, after she had courtesied, “how do you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to see you ill, Sir Thomas,” she replied, “I hope there is + nothing serious the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I myself could hope so, Mrs. Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Sir Thomas, I am no longer Mrs. Norton; Mrs. Mainwaring, at + your service.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed! Then you have changed your condition, as they say. Well, I + hope it is for the better, Mrs. Mainwaring; I wish you all joy and + happiness!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sir Thomas, it is for the better; I am very happily married.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it—I am very glad to hear it; that is to say, if + I can be glad at anything. I feel very ill, Mrs. Mainwaring, very ill, + indeed; and this blunt, plain-spoken doctor of mine gives me but little + comfort. Not that I care much about any doctor's opinion—it is what + I feel myself that troubles me. You are not aware, perhaps, that my + daughter has abandoned me—deserted me—and left me solitary—sick—ill; + without care—without attendance—without consolation;—and + all because I wished to make her happy.” + </p> + <p> + “This, Sir Thomas,” replied Mrs. Mainwaring, avoiding a direct reply as to + her knowledge of Lucy's movements, “is, I presume, with reference to her + marriage with Lord Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes; young women will not, now-a-days, allow a parent to form any + opinion as to what constitutes their happiness; but I cannot be angry with + Lucy now; indeed, I am not. I only regret her absence from my sick bed, as + I may term it; for, indeed, it is in bed I ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas, I, came to speak with you very seriously, upon the subject of + her union with that young nobleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but I am not in a condition, Mrs. Mainwaring, to enter upon such a + topic at present. The doctor has forbidden me to speak upon any subject + that might excite me. You must excuse me, then, madam; I really cannot + enter upon it. I never thought T loved Lucy so much;—I only want my + child to be with me. She and I are all that I are left together now; but + she has deserted me at the last moment, for I fear I am near it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Sir Thomas, if you would only hear me for a few minutes, I could + satisfy you that—” + </p> + <p> + “But I cannot hear you, Mrs. Mainwaring; I cannot hear you; I am not in a + state to do so; I feel feverish, and exceedingly ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes would do, Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes! five centuries of torture! I must ring the bell, Mrs. + Mainwaring, if you attempt to force this subject on me. I should be sorry + to treat you rudely, but you must see at once that I am quite unable to + talk of anything calculated to disturb me. I have a tendency of blood to + the head—I am also nervous and irritable. Put it off, my dear madam. + I trust you shall have another and a better opportunity. Do ring, and + desire Lucy to come to me.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring really became alarmed at the situation of the baronet, and + felt, from this request to have his daughter sent to him, which looked + like delirium, that he was not in a state to enter upon or hear anything + that might disappoint or disturb him. She consequently rose to take her + leave, which she did after having expressed her sincere regret at his + indisposition, as she termed it. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it was only indisposition, Mrs. Mainwaring, I wish it was. Present + my respects to your husband, and I wish you and him all happiness;” and so + with another courtesy, Mrs. Mainwaring took her leave. + </p> + <p> + After she had gone, Gibson once more attended the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Gibson,” said his master, sitting up and flinging his nightcap + aside, “did you see that old grindress? Zounds and the devil, what are + women? The old mantrap has got married at these years! Thank heaven, my + grandmother is dead, or God knows what the devil might put into her old + noddle.” + </p> + <p> + “Women are very strange cattle, certainly, sir,” replied Gibson, with a + smirk, “and not age itself will keep them from a husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy—Miss Gourlay, I mean—is with her; I am certain of it. + The girl was always very much attached to her, and I know the sly old + devil has been sent to negotiate with me, but I declined. I knew better + than to involve myself in a controversy with an old she prig who deals in + nothing but maxims, and morals, and points of duty. I consequently sent + her off in double quick time, as they say. Get me some burgundy and water. + I really am not well. There is something wrong, Gibson, whatever it is; + but I think it's nothing but anxiety. Gibson, listen. I have never been + turned from my purpose yet, and I never shall. Miss Gourlay must be + Countess of Cullamore, or it is a struggle for life and death between her + and me; either of us shall die, or I shall have my way. Get me the + burgundy and water,” and Gibson, with his sleek bow, went to attend his + orders. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring having some purchases to make and some visits to pay, and + feeling that her unexpectedly brief visit to Sir Thomas had allowed her + time for both, did not immediately return to call upon Lucy, fearing that + she might only disturb the interview between her and Lady Gourlay. + </p> + <p> + Lucy, as the servant said, was shown up to the drawing-room, where she + amused herself as well as she could, by examining some fine paintings, + among which was one of her late uncle. The features of this she studied + with considerable attention, and could not help observing that, although + they resembled collectively those of her father, the deformity of the one + eye only excepted, yet the general result was strikingly different. All + that was harsh, and coarse, and repulsive in the countenance of her + father, was here softened down into an expression of gentleness, firmness, + and singular candor, whilst, at the same time, the family likeness could + not for a moment be questioned or mistaken. + </p> + <p> + Whilst thus occupied, a foot was heard, as if entering the drawing-room, + and naturally turning round, she beheld the stranger before her. The + surprise of each was mutual, for the meeting was perfectly unexpected by + either. A deep blush overspread Lucy's exquisite features, which almost in + a moment gave way to a paleness that added a new and equally delightful + phase to her beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, my dear Lucy,” exclaimed the stranger, “do I find you here! + I had heard that the families were estranged; but on that very account I + feel the more deeply delighted at your presence under Lady Gourlay's roof. + This happiness comes to me with a double sense of enjoyment, from the fact + of its being unexpected.” + </p> + <p> + The alternations of red and white still continued as Lucy replied, her + sparkling eye chastened down by the veil of modesty as she spoke: “I am + under Lady Gourlay's roof for the first time in my life. Indeed, I have + come here to make an experiment, if I may use the expression, upon the + goodness of her heart. The amiable lady with whom I now reside suggested + to me to do so, a suggestion which I embraced with delight. I have been + here only a few minutes, and await her ladyship's return, which they tell + me may be expected immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “It would indeed be unfortunate,” replied the stranger, “that two + individuals so nearly connected by family, and what is more, the + possession of similar virtues, should not be known to each other.” + </p> + <p> + This compliment brought a deeper tinge of color to Lucy's cheek, who + simply replied, “I have often wished most sincerely for the pleasure—the + honor, I should say—of her acquaintance; but unfortunately the + ill-feeling that has subsisted between the families, or rather between a + portion of them, has hitherto prevented it. If I were now under my + father's roof a visit here were out of the question; but you know, + Charles, I cannot, and I ought not, to inherit his resentments.” + </p> + <p> + “True, my dear Lucy, and I am glad to see you here for many, many reasons. + No, your father's resentments would perish for want of nurture in a heart + like yours. But, Lucy, there is a subject in which I trust we both feel a + dearer and a deeper interest than that of family feud. I am aware of this + hateful union which your father wishes to bring about between you and this + Lord Dunroe. I have been long aware of it, as you know; but need I say + that I place every reliance, all honorable confidence, in your truth and + attachment?” + </p> + <p> + He had approached, and gently taking her hand in his as he spoke, he + uttered these words in a tone so full at once of tenderness and that + sympathy to which he knew her sufferings on this point had entitled her, + that Lucy was considerably affected, although she restrained her emotions + as well as she could. + </p> + <p> + “If it were not so,” she replied, in a voice whose melody was made more + touchingly beautiful by the slight tremor which she endeavored to repress, + “if it were not so, Charles, I would not now be a fugitive. from my + father's roof.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger's eye sparkled with the rapturous enthusiasm of love, as the + gentle girl, all blushes, gave expression to an assurance so gratifying, + so delicious to his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Lucy,” said he, “I fear I am unworthy of you. Oh, could you but + know how those words of yours have made my heart tremble with an excess of + transport which language fails to express, you would also know that the + affection with which I love you is as tender, as pure, as unselfish, as + ever warmed the heart of man. And yet, as I said, I fear it is unworthy of + you. I know your father's character, his determination, the fierce force + of his will, and the energy with which he pursues every object on which he + sets his heart or ambition. I say I know all this, and I sometimes fear + the consequences. What can the will of only one pure, gentle, and delicate + heart avail against the united powers of ambition, authority, persuasion, + force, determination, perhaps violence? What, I repeat, can a gentle heart + like yours ultimately avail against such a host of difficulties? And it is + for this reason that I say I am unworthy of you, for I fear—and you + know that perfect love casteth out all fear.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Charles, if love were without fear it would lose half its + tenderness. An eternal sunshine, would soon sicken the world. But as for + your apprehensions of my solitary heart failing against such difficulties + as it must encounter, you seem to omit one slight element in calculating + your terrors, and that simple element is a host in itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is?” + </p> + <p> + “Love for you, dear Charles. I know you may probably feel that this avowal + ought to be expressed with more hesitation, veiled over by the hypocrisy + of language, disguised by the hackneyed forms of mere sentiment, uttered + like the assertions of a coquette, and degraded by that tampering with + truth which makes the heart lie unto itself. Oh, yes!—perhaps, + Charles, you may think that because I fail to express what I feel in that + spirit of ambiguity which a love not confident in the truth, purity, and + rectitude of its own principles must always borrow—that because my + heart fails to approach yours by the usual circuitous route with which + ordinary hearts do approach—yes, you may imagine for all these + reasons that my affection is not—but—” and here she checked + herself—“why,” she added, with dignity, whilst her cheeks glowed and + her eyes sparkled, “why should I apologize for the avowal of a love of + which I am not ashamed, and which has its strongest defence in the worth + and honor of its object?” + </p> + <p> + Tears of enthusiasm rushed down her cheeks as she spoke, and her lover + could only say, “Dearest Lucy, most beloved of my heart, your language, + your sentiments, your feelings—so pure, so noble, so far above those + commonplaces of your sex, only cause me to shrink almost into nothing when + I compare or contrast myself with you. Let, however, one principle guide + us—the confidence that our love is mutual and cannot be disturbed. I + am for the present placed in circumstances that are exceedingly painful. + In point of fact, I am wrapped in obscurity and shadow, and there exists, + besides, a possibility that I may not become, in point of fortune, such a + man as you might possibly wish to look upon as your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are now suffering your fine mind, Charles, to become unconsciously + warped by the common prejudices of life, I beseech you to reflect upon the + heart to which you address yourself. Society presents not a single + prejudice which in any degree aids or supports virtue, and truth, and + honor, that I do not cherish, and wish you to cherish; but if you imagine + that you will become less dear to me because you may fail to acquire some + of the artificial dignities or honors of life, then it is clear that you + know not how to estimate the spirit and character of Lucy Grourlay.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you will be severely tried, my dear Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Know me aright, Charles. I have been severely tried. Many a girl, I am + sorry to say, would forget Dunroe's profligacy in his rank. Many a girl, + in contemplating the man, could see nothing but the coronet; for ambition—the + poorest, the vainest, and the most worthless of all kinds of ambition—that + of rank, title, the right of precedence—is unfortunately cultivated + as a virtue in the world of fashion, and as such it is felt. Be it so, + Charles; let me remain unfashionable and vulgar. Perish the title if not + accompanied by worth; fling the gaudy coronet aside if it covers not the + brow of probity and honor. Retain those, dear Charles—retain worth, + probity, and honor—and you retain a heart that looks upon them as + the only titles that confer true rank and true dignity.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger gave her a long gaze of admiration, and exclaimed, deeply + affected, + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my Lucy, you are, I fear, unfit for the world. Your spirit is too + pure, too noble for common life. Like some priceless gem, it sparkles with + the brilliancy of too many virtues for the ordinary mass of mankind to + appreciate.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing, Charles: you quite overrate me; but God forbid that the + possession of virtue and good dispositions should ever become a + disqualification for this world. It is not so; but even if it were, + provided I shine in the estimation of my own little world, by which I mean + the affection of him to whom I shall unite my fate, then I am satisfied: + his love and his approbation shall constitute my coronet and my honor.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger was absolutely lost in admiration and love, for he felt that + the force of truth and sincerity had imparted an eloquence and an energy + to her language that were perfectly fascinating and irresistible. + </p> + <p> + “My dear life,” said he, “the music of your words, clothing, as it does, + the divine principles they utter, must surely resemble the melody of + heaven's own voices. For my part, I feel relaxed in such a delicious + rapture as I have never either felt or dreamt of before—entranced, + as it were, in a sense of your wonderful beauty and goodness. But, dearest + Lucy, allow me to ask on what terms are you with your father? Have you + heard from him? Have you written to him? Is he aware of your present + residence?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied; “he is not aware of my present residence, but I have + written to him. I wished to set his mind at rest as well as I could, and + to diminish his anxiety as far as in me lay. Heaven knows,” she added, + bursting into tears, “that this unnatural estrangement between father and + daughter is most distressing. I am anxious to be with papa, to render him, + in every sense, all the duties of a child, provided only he will not + persist in building up the superstructure of rank upon my own unhappiness. + Have you seen him?” she inquired, drying her eyes, a task in which she was + tenderly assisted by the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him,” he replied, “for a short time;” but the terms in which he + explained the nature of the interview between himself and the baronet were + not such as could afford her a distinct impression of all that took place, + simply because he wished to spare her the infliction of unnecessary pain. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Lucy,” he added, “I feel it necessary to claim a large portion + of your approbation.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a smile, but awaited his explanation. + </p> + <p> + “You will scarcely credit me when I assure you that I have had a clew to + your place of residence, or concealment, or whatever it is to be termed, + since the first morning of your arrival there, and yet I disturbed you + not, either by letter or visit. Thus you may perceive how sacred your + lightest wish is to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you imagine that I am insensible to this delicate generosity?” she + asked—“oh, no; indeed, I fully appreciate it; but now, Charles, will + you permit me to ask how, or when, or where you have been acquainted with + my aunt Gourlay, for I was not aware that you had known each other?” + </p> + <p> + “This, my dear Lucy,” he replied, smiling, “you shall have cleared up + along with all my other mysteries. Like every riddle, although it may seem + difficult now, it will be plain enough when told.” + </p> + <p> + “It matters not, dear Charles; I have every confidence in your truth and + honor, and that is sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + He then informed her briefly, that he should be under the necessity of + going to France for a short space, upon business of the deepest importance + to himself. + </p> + <p> + “My stay, however,” he added, “will not be a very long one; and I trust, + that after my return, I shall be in a position to speak out my love. + Indeed, I am anxious for this, dear Lucy, for I know how strong the love + of truth and candor is in your great and generous heart. And yet, for the + sake of one good and amiable individual, or rather, I should say, of two, + the object of my journey to France will not be accomplished without the + deepest pain to myself. It is, I may say here, to spare the feelings of + the two individuals in question, that I have preserved the strict + incognito which I thought necessary since my arrival in this country.” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell until then, my dear Charles; and in whatever object you may be + engaged, let me beg that you will not inflict a wanton or unnecessary + wound upon a good or amiable heart; but I know you will not—it is + not in your nature.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust not,” he added, as he took his leave. “I cannot wait longer for + lady Gourlay; but before I go, I will write a short note for her in the + library, which will, for the present, answer the same purpose as seeing + her. Farewell, then, dearest and best of girls!—farewell, and be as + happy as you can; would that I could say, as I wish you, until we meet + again.” + </p> + <p> + And thus they separated. + </p> + <p> + The scene that had just taken place rendered every effort at composure + necessary on the part of Lucy, before the return of Lady Gourlay. This + lady, strange as it may seem, she had yet never seen or met, and she now + began to reflect upon the nature of the visit she had made her, as well as + of the reception she might get. If it were possible that her father had + made away with her child on the one hand, could it be possible, on the + other, that Lady Gourlay would withhold her resentment from the daughter + of the man who had made her childless? But, no; her generous heart could + not for a moment admit the former possibility. She reasoned not from what + she had felt at his hands, but as a daughter, who, because she abhorred + the crime imputed to him, could not suppose him capable of committing it. + His ambition was all for herself. Neither, she felt, would Lady Gourlay, + even allowing for the full extent of her suspicions, confound the innocent + daughter with the offending parent. Then her reputation for meekness, + benevolence, patience, charity, and all those virtues which, without + effort, so strongly impress themselves upon the general spirit of social + life, spoke with a thousand tongues on her behalf. Yes, she was glad she + came; she felt the spirit of a virtuous relationship strongly in her + heart; and in that heart she thanked the amiable Mrs. Mainwaring for the + advice she had given her. + </p> + <p> + A gentle and diffident tap at the door interrupted the course of her + reflections; and the next moment, a lady, grave, but elegant in + appearance, entered. She courtesied with peculiar grace, and an air of the + sweetest benignity, to Lucy, who returned it with one in which humility, + reverence, and dignity, were equally blended. Neither, indeed, could for a + single moment doubt that an accomplished and educated gentlewoman stood + before her. Lucy, however, felt that it was her duty to speak first, and + account for a visit so unexpected. + </p> + <p> + “I know not,” she said, “as yet, how to measure the apology which I ought + to make to Lady Gourlay for my presence here. My heart tells me that I + have the honor of addressing that lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I am, indeed, madam, that unhappy woman.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy approached her, and said, “Do not reject me, madam; pardon me—love + me—pity me;—I am Lucy Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Gourlay opened her arms, exclaiming, as she did it, in a voice of the + deepest emotion, “My dear niece—my child—my daughter if you + will;” and they wept long and affectionately on each other's bosoms. + </p> + <p> + “You are the only living individual,” said Lucy, after some time, “whom I + could ask to pity me; but I am not ashamed to solicit your sympathy. Dear, + dear aunt, I am very unhappy. But this, I fear, is wrong; for why should I + add my sorrows to the weight of misery which you yourself have been + compelled to bear? I fear it is selfish and ungenerous to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my child; whatever the weight of grief or misery which we are forced, + perhaps, for wise purposes, to bear, it is ordained, for purposes equally + wise and beneficent, that every act of sympathy with another's sorrow + lessens our own. Dear Lucy, let me, if you can, or will be permitted to do + so, be a loving mother to you, and stand to my heart in relation to the + child I have lost; or think that your own dear mother still survives in + me.” + </p> + <p> + This kindness and affection fairly overcame Lucy, who sat down on a sofa, + and wept bitterly. Lady Gourlay herself was deeply affected for some + minutes, but, at length, resuming composure, she sat beside Lucy, and, + taking her hand, said: “I can understand, my dear child, the nature of + your grief; but be comforted. Your heart, which was burdened, will soon + become lighter, and better spirits will return; so, I trust, will better + times. It is not from the transient and unsteady, and too often painful, + incidents of life, that we should attempt to draw consolation, but from a + fixed and firm confidence in the unchangeable purposes of God.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, dear Lady Gourlay—dear aunt—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is better, my love.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had known you before; of late I have been alone—with none + to advise or guide me; for, she, whose affectionate heart, whose tender + look, and whose gentle monition, were ever with me—she—alas, + my dear aunt, how few know what the bitterness is—when forced to + struggle against strong but misguided wills, whether of our own or + others'; to feel that we are without a mother—that that gentle voice + is silent forever; that that well in the desert of life—a mother's + heart—is forever closed to us; that that protecting angel of our + steps is departed from us—never, never to return.” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered these words in deep grief, it might have been observed, + that Lady Gourlay shed some quiet but apparently bitter tears. It is + impossible for us to enter into the heart, or its reflections; but it is + not, we think, unreasonable to suppose that while Lucy dwelt so feelingly + upon the loss of her mother, the other may have been thinking upon that of + her child. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” she exclaimed, “let the affectionate compact which I have + just proposed be ratified between us. My heart, at all events, has already + ratified it. I shall be as a mother to you, and you shall be to me as a + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “I know not, my dear aunt,” replied Lucy, “whether to consider you more + affectionate than generous. How few of our sex, after—after—that + is, considering the enmities—in fact, how a relative, placed as you + unhappily are, would take me to her heart as you have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, my child, I were incapable of it, if that heart had never been + touched and softened by affliction. As it is, Lucy, let me say to you, as + one who probably knows the world better, do not look, as most young + persons like you do, upon the trials you are at present forced to suffer, + as if they were the sharpest and heaviest in the world. Time, my love, and + perhaps other trials of a still severer character, may one day teach you + to think that your grief and impatience were out of proportion to what you + then underwent. May He who afflicts his people for their good, prevent + that this ever should be so in your case; but, even if it should, remember + that God loveth whom he chasteneth. And above all things, my dear child, + never, never, never despair in his providence. Dry your eyes, my love,” + she added, with a smile of affection and encouragement, that Lucy felt to + be contagious by its cheering influence upon her; “dry your tears, and + turn round to the light until I contemplate more clearly and distinctly + that beauty of which I have heard so much.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy obeyed her with all the simplicity of a child, and turned round so as + to place herself in the position required by the aunt; but whilst she did + so, need we say that the blushes followed each other beautifully and fast + over her timid but sparkling countenance? + </p> + <p> + “I do not wonder, my dear girl, that public rumor has borne its ample + testimony to your beauty. I have never seen either it or your figure + surpassed; but it is here, my dear,” she added, placing her hand upon her + heart, “where the jewel that gives value to so fair a casket lies.” + </p> + <p> + “How happy I am, my dear aunt,” replied Lucy, anxious to change the + subject, since I know you. The very consciousness of it is a consolation.” + </p> + <p> + “And I trust, Lucy, we shall all yet be happy. When the dispensations + ripen, then comes the harvest of the blessings.” + </p> + <p> + The old footman now entered, saying: “Here is a note, my lady,” and he + presented one, “which the gentleman desired me to deliver on your + ladyship's return.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Gourlay took the note, saying: “Will you excuse me, my dear niece?—this, + I believe, is on a subject that is not merely near to, but in the + innermost recesses of my heart.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy now took that opportunity on her part of contemplating the features + of her aunt; but, as we have already described them elsewhere, it is + unnecessary to do so here. She was, however, much struck with their chaste + but melancholy beauty; for it cannot be disputed, that sorrow and + affliction, while they impair the complexion of the most lovely, very + frequently communicate to it a charm so deep and touching, that in point + of fact, the heart that suffers within is taught to speak in the mournful, + grave, and tender expression, which they leave behind them as their + traces. As Lucy surveyed her aunt's features, which had been moulded by + calamity into an expression of settled sorrow—an expression which no + cheerfulness could remove, however it might diminish it, she was surprised + to observe at first a singular degree of sweetness appear; next a mild + serenity; and lastly, she saw that that serenity gradually kindled into a + radiance that might, in the hands of a painter, have expressed the joy of + the Virgin Mother on finding her lost Son in the Temple. This, however, + was again succeeded by a paleness, that for a moment alarmed Lucy, but + which was soon lost in a gush of joyful tears. On looking at her niece, + who did not presume to make any inquiry as to the cause of this + extraordinary emotion, Lady Gourlay saw that her eyes at least were + seeking, by the wonder they expressed, for the cause of it. + </p> + <p> + “May the name,” she exclaimed, “of the just and merciful God be praised + forever! Here, my darling, is a note, in which I am informed upon the best + authority, that my child—my boy, is yet alive—and was seen but + very recently. Dear God of all goodness, is my weak and worn heart capable + of bearing this returning tide of happiness!” + </p> + <p> + Nature, however, gave way; and after several struggles and throbbings, she + sank into insensibility. To ring for assistance, to apply all kinds of + restoratives; and to tend her until she revived, and afterwards, were + offices which Lucy discharged with equal promptitude and tenderness. + </p> + <p> + On recovering, she took the hand of the latter in hers, and said, with a + smile full of gratitude, joy, and sweetness, “Our first thanks are always + due to God, and to him my heart offers them up; but, oh, how feebly! + Thanks to you, also, Lucy, for your kindness; and many thanks for your + goodness in giving me the pleasure of knowing you. I trust that we shall + both see and enjoy better and happier days. Your visit has been propitious + to me, and brought, if I may so say, an unexpected dawn of happiness to + the widowed mother's heart.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was about to reply, when the old footman came to say that the lady + who had accompanied her was waiting below in the chaise. She accordingly + bade her farewell, only for a time she said, and after a tender embrace, + she went down to Mrs. Mainwaring who respectfully declined on that + occasion to be presented to Lady Gourlay, in consequence of the number of + purchases she had yet to make, and the time it would occupy to make them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. Innocence and Affection overcome by Fraud and Hypocrisy + </h2> + <h3> + —Lucy yields at Last. + </h3> + <p> + Not many minutes after Mrs. Mainwaring's interview with the baronet, + Gibson entered the library, and handed him a letter on which was stamped + the Ballytrain postmark. On looking at it, he paused for a moment: + </p> + <p> + “Who the d——— can this come from?” he said. “I am not + aware of having any particular correspondence at present, in or about + Ballytrain. Here, however, is a seal; let me see what it is. What the d———, + again? are these a pair of asses' ears or wings? Certainly, if the + impression be correct, the former; and what is here? A fox. Very good, + perfectly intelligible; a fox, with a pair of asses' ears upon him! + intimating a combination of knavery and folly. 'Gad, this must be from + Crackenfudge, of whom it is the type and exponent. For a thousand, it + contains a list of his qualifications for the magisterial honors for which + he is so ambitious. Well, well; I believe every man has an ambition for + something. Mine is to see my daughter a countess, that she may trample + with velvet slippers on the necks of those who would trample on hers if + she were beneath them. This fellow, now, who is both slave and tyrant, + will play all sorts of oppressive pranks upon the poor, by whom he knows + that he is despised; and for that very reason, along with others, will he + punish them. That, however, is, after all, but natural; and on this very + account, curse me, but I shall try and shove the beggarly scoundrel up to + the point of his paltry ambition. I like ambition. The man who has no + object of ambition of any kind is unfit for life. Come, then, wax, deliver + up thy trust.'” + </p> + <p> + With a dark grin of contempt, and a kind of sarcastic gratification, he + perused the document, which ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sir Tomas,—In a letter, which a' had the honer of receiving + from you, in consequence of your very great kindness in condescending to + kick me out of your house, on the occasion of my last visit to Red Hall, + you were pleased to express a wish that a' would send you up as arthentic + a list as a' could conveniently make up of my qualifications for the + magistracey. Deed, a'm sore yet, Sir Tomas, and wouldn't it be a good + joke, as my friend Dr. Twig says, if the soreness should remain until it + is cured by the Komission, which he thinks would wipe out all recollection + of the pain and the punishment. And he says, too, that this application of + it would be putting it to a most proper and legutimate use; the only use, + he insists, to which it ought to be put. But a' don't go that far, because + a' think it would be an honerable dockiment, not only to my posterity, + meaning my legutimate progenitors, if a' should happen to have any; but, + also and moreover, to the good taste and judgment, and respect for the + honer and integrity of the Bench, manifested by those who attributed to + place me on it. + </p> + <p> + “A' now come to Klaim No. I, for the magistracey: In the first place a'm + not without expeyrience, having been in the habit of acting as a + magistrate in a private way, and upon my own responsibility, for several + years. A' established a kourt in a little vilage, which—and this is + a strong point in my feavor now-a-days—which a' meself have + depopilated; and a' trust that the depopilation won't be ovelueked. To + this kourt a' com-peled all me taunts to atend. They were obliged to + summon one another as often as they kould, and much oftener than they + wished, and for the slightest kauses. A' presided in it purseondlly; and + a'll tell you why. My system was a fine system, indeed. That is to say, a' + fined them ether on the one side or the tother, but most generally on + both, and then a' put the fines into my own pocet. My tenints a' know + didn't like this kind of law very much—but if they didn't a' did; + and a' made them feel that a' was their landlord. No man was a faverite + with me that didn't frequent my kourt, and for this resin, in order to + stand well with me, they fought like kat and dog. Now, you know, it was my + bisness to enkorage this, for the more they fought and disputed, the more + a' fined them. + </p> + <p> + “In fact, a' done everything in my power, to enlitin my tenints. For + instance, a' taught them the doktrine of trespiss. If a' found that a + stranger tuck the sheltry side of my hedge, to blow his nose, I fined him + half-a-crown, as can be proved by proper and undeniable testomony. A' + mention all these matters to satisfy you that a' have practis as a + magistrate, and won't have my duties to lern when a'm called upon to + discharge them. + </p> + <p> + “Klaim No. II. is as follows: A'm very unpopilar with the people, which is + a great thing in itself, as a' think no man ought to be risen to the bench + that's not unpopilar; because, when popilar, he's likely to feavor them, + and symperthize with them—wherein his first duty is always to + konsider them in the rong. Nether am a' popilar with the gentry and + magistrates of the kountry, because they despise me, and say that a'm + this, that and tother; that a'm mean and tyrannical; that a' changed my + name from pride, and that a'm overbearing and ignorant. Now this last + charge of ignorance brings me to Klaim No. III. + </p> + <p> + “Be it nown to you, then, Sir Tomas, that a' received a chollege + eddycation, which is an anser in full to the play of ignorance. In fact, + a' devoted meself to eddycation till my very brain began to go round like + a whurli-gig; and many people say, that a' never rekovered the proper use + of it since. Hundres will tell you that they would shed their blood upon + the truth of it; but let any one that thinks so transact bisness with me, + or bekome a tenint of mine, and he'll find that a' can make him bleed in + proving the reverse. + </p> + <p> + “A' could prove many other klaims equally strong, but a' hope it's not + necessary to seduce any more. A' do think, if the Lord Chanceseller knew + of my qualifications, a' wouldn't be long off the bench. If, then, Sir + Tomas, you, who have so much influence, would write on my behalf, and + rekomend me to the custus rascalorum as a proper kandi-date, I could not + fail to sukceed in reaching the great point of my ambition, which is, to + be accommodated with a seat—anything would satisfy me—even a + close-stool—upon the magisterial bench. Amen, Sir Tomas. + </p> + <p> + “And have the honer to be, + </p> + <p> + “Your obedient and much obliged, and very thankful servant for what a' + got, as well as for what a' expect, Sir Tomas, + </p> + <p> + “Periwinkle Crackenfudge.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas—having perused this precious document, which, by the way, + contains no single fact that could not be substantiated by the clearest + testimony, so little are they at head-quarters acquainted with the pranks + that are played off on the unfortunate people by multitudes of petty + tyrants in remote districts of the country—Sir Thomas, we say, + having perused the aforesaid document, grinned—almost laughed—with + a satirical enjoyment of its contents. + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said he; “excellent: confound me, but Crackenfudge must get + to the bench, if it were only for the novelty of the thing. I will this + moment recommend him to Lord Cullamore, who is <i>custos rotulorum</i> for + the county, and who would as soon, by the way, cut his right hand off as + recommend him to the Chancellor, if he knew the extent of his 'klaims,' as + the miserable devil spells it. Yes, I will recommend him, if it were only + to vex my brother baronet, Sir James B——-, who is humane, and + kind, and popular, forsooth, and a staunch advocate for purity of the + bench, and justice to the people! No doubt of it; I shall recommend you, + Crackenfudge, and cheek by jowl with the best among them, upon the same + magistorial bench, shall the doughty Crackenfudge sit.” + </p> + <p> + He instantly sat down to his writing-desk, and penned as strong a + recommendation as he could possibly compose to Lord Cullamore, after which + he threw himself again upon the sofa, and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Well, that act is done, and an iniquitous one it is; but no matter, it is + gone off to the post, and I'm rid of him.' Now for Lucy, and my ambition; + she is unquestionably with that shameless old woman who could think of + marrying at such an age. She is with her; she will hear of my illness, and + as certain as life is life, and death death, she will be here soon.” + </p> + <p> + In this he calculated aright, and he felt that he did so. Mrs. Mainwaring, + on the evening of their visit to the city, considered it her duty to + disclose, fully and candidly, to Lucy, the state of her father's health, + that is, as it appeared to her on their interview. Lucy, who knew that he + was subject to sudden attacks upon occasions of less moment, not only + became alarmed, but experienced a feeling like remorse for having, as she + said, abandoned him so undutifully. + </p> + <p> + “I will return immediately,” she said, weeping; “he is ill: you say he + speaks of me tenderly and affectionately—oh, what have I done! + Should this illness prove serious—fatal—my piece of mind were + gone forever. I should consider myself as a parricide—as the direct + cause of his death. My God! perhaps even now I am miserable for life—forever—forever!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring soothed her as well as she could, but she refused to hear + comfort, and having desired Alley Mahon to prepare their slight luggage, + she took an affectionate and tearful leave of Mrs. Mainwaring, bade <i>adieu</i> + to her husband, and was about to get into the chaise, which had been + ordered from the inn in Wicklow, when Mrs. Mainwaring said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear Lucy, if your father should recover, and have recourse to + any abuse of his authority, by attempting again to force your inclinations + and consummate your misery, remember that my door, my arms, my heart, + shall ever be open to you. I do not, you will observe, suggest any act of + disobedience on your part; on the contrary, I am of opinion that you + should suffer everything short of the last resort, by which I mean this + hateful marriage with Dunroe, sooner than abandon your father's roof. This + union is a subject on which I must see him again. Poor Lord Cullamore I + respect and venerate, for I have reason to believe that he has, for one + contemplated error, had an unhappy if not a remorseful life. In the + meantime, even in opposition to your father's wishes, I say it, and in + confirmation of your strongest prejudices———” + </p> + <p> + “It amounts to antipathy, Mrs. Mainwaring—to hatred, to abhorrence.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear child, in confirmation of them all, I implore, I entreat, I + conjure, and if I had authority, I would say, I command you not to unite + your fate with that young profligate.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not fear me, Mrs. Mainwaring; but at present I can think of nothing + but poor papa and his illness; I tremble, indeed, to think how I shall + find him; and, my God, to reflect that I am the guilty cause of all this!” + </p> + <p> + They then separated, and Lucy, accompanied by Alley, proceeded to town at + a pace as rapid as the animals that bore them could possibly accomplish. + </p> + <p> + On arriving in town, she was about rushing upstairs to throw herself in + her father's arms, when Gibson, who observed her, approached respectfully, + and said: + </p> + <p> + “This haste to see your father, Miss Gourlay, is very natural; but perhaps + you will be good enough to wait a few moments, until he is prepared to + receive you. The doctor has left strict orders that he shall not see any + person; but, above all things, without being announced.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Gibson—first, how is he? Is he very ill?” + </p> + <p> + Gibson assumed a melancholy and very solemn look, as he replied, “He is, + indeed, ill, Miss Gourlay; but it would not become me to distress you—especially + as I hope your presence will comfort him; he is perpetually calling for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Go, Gibson, go,” she exclaimed, whilst tears, which she could not + restrain, gushed to her eyes. “Go, be quick; tell him I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “I will break it to him, madam, as gently as possible,” replied this + sedate and oily gentleman; “for, if made acquainted with it too suddenly, + the unexpected joy might injure him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not injure him, then,” she exclaimed, earnestly; “oh, do not injure + him—but go; I leave it to your own discretion.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy immediately proceeded to her own room, and Gibson to the library, + where he found the baronet in his nightcap and morning gown, reading a + newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “I have the paragraph drawn up, Gibson,” said he, with a grim smile, + “stating that I am dangerously ill; take and copy it, and see that it be + inserted in to-morrow's publication.” + </p> + <p> + “It will not be necessary, sir,” replied the footman; “Miss Gourlay is + here, and impatient to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” exclaimed her father with a start; “you do not say she is in the + house?” + </p> + <p> + “She has just arrived, sir, and is now in her own room.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave me, Gibson,” said the baronet, “and attend promptly when I ring;” + and Gibson withdrew. “Why,” thought he to himself, “why, do I feel as I + do? Glad that I have her once more in my power, and this is only natural; + but why this kind of terror—this awe of that extraordinary girl? I + dismissed that prying scoundrel of a footman, because I could not bear + that he should observe and sneer at this hypocrisy, although I know he is + aware of it. What can this uncomfortable sensation which checks my joy at + her return mean? Is it that involuntary homage which they say vice is + compelled to pay to purity, truth, and virtue? I know not; but I feel + disturbed, humbled with an impression like that of guilt—an + impression which makes me feel as if there actually were such a thing as + conscience. As my objects, however, are for the foolish girl's + advancement, I am determined to play the game out, and for that purpose, + as I know now by experience that neither harshness nor violence will do, I + shall have recourse to tenderness and affection. I must touch her heart, + excite her sympathy, and throw myself altogether upon her generosity. Come + then—and now for the assumption of a new character.” + </p> + <p> + Having concluded this train of meditation, he rang for Gibson, who + appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Gibson, let Miss Gourlay know that, ill as I am, I shall try to see her: + be precise in the message, sir; use my own words.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Sir Thomas,” replied the footman, who immediately withdrew to + deliver it. + </p> + <p> + The baronet, when Gibson went out again, took a pair of pillows, with + which the sofa was latterly furnished, in order to maintain the appearance + of illness, whenever it might be necessary, and having placed them under + his head, laid himself down, pulled the nightcap over his brows, and + affected all the symptoms of a man who was attempting to struggle against + some serious and severe attack. + </p> + <p> + In this state he lay, when Lucy entering the room, approached, in a flood + of tears, exclaiming, as she knelt by the sofa, “Oh, papa—dear papa, + forgive me;” and as she spoke, she put her arms round his neck, and kissed + him affectionately. “Dear papa,” she proceeded, “you are ill—very + ill, I fear; but will you not forgive your poor child for having abandoned + you as she did? I have returned, however, to stay with you, to tend you, + to soothe and console you as far as any and every effort of mine can. You + shall have no nurse but me, papa. All that human hands can do to give you + ease—all that the sincerest affection can do to sustain and cheer + you, your own Lucy will do. But speak to me, papa; am I not your own Lucy + still?” + </p> + <p> + Her father turned round, as if by a painful effort, and having looked upon + her for some time, replied, feebly, “Yes, you are—you are my own + Lucy still.” + </p> + <p> + This admission brought a fresh gush of tears from the affectionate girl, + who again exclaimed, “Ah, papa, I fear you are very ill; but those words + are to me the sweetest that ever proceeded from your lips. Are you glad to + see me, papa?—but I forget myself; perhaps I am disturbing you. Only + say how you feel, and if it will not injure you, what your complaint is.” + </p> + <p> + “My complaint, dear Lucy, most affectionate child—for I see you are + so still, notwithstanding reports and appearances—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed, I am, papa—indeed I am.” + </p> + <p> + “My complaint was brought on by anxiety and distress of mind—I will + not say why—I did, I know, I admit, wish to see you in a position of + life equal to your merits; but I cannot talk of that—it would + disturb me; it is a subject on which, alas! I am without hope. I am + threatened with apoplexy or paralysis, Lucy, the doctor cannot say which; + but the danger, he says, proceeds altogether from the state of my mind, + acting, it is true, upon a plethoric system of body; but I care not, dear + Lucy—I care not, now; I am indifferent to life. All my expectations + —all a father's brilliant plans for his child, are now over. The + doctor says that ease of mind might restore, but I doubt it now; I fear it + is too late. I only wish I was better prepared for the change which I know + I shall soon be forced to make. Yet I feel, Lucy, as if I never loved you + until now—I feel how dear you are to me now that I know I must part + with you so soon.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was utterly incapable of resisting this tenderness, as the + unsuspecting girl believed it to be. She again threw her arms around him, + and wept as if her very heart would break. + </p> + <p> + “This agitation, my darling,” he added, “is too much for us both. My head + is easily disturbed; but—but—send for Lucy,” he exclaimed, as + if touched by a passing delirium, “send for my daughter. I must have Lucy. + I have been harsh to her, and I cannot die without her forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, papa—dearest papa! Recollect yourself; Lucy is with you; not + to forgive you for anything, but to ask; to implore to be forgiven.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he said, raising his head a little, and looking round like a man + awakening from sleep. “I fear I am beginning to wander. Dear Lucy—yes, + it is you. Oh, I recollect. Withdraw, my darling; the sight of you—the + joy of your very appearance—eh—eh—yes, let me see. Oh, + yes; withdraw, my darling; this interview has been too much for me—I + fear it has—but rest and silence will restore me, I hope. I hope so—I + hope so.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, who feared that a continuance of this interview might very much + aggravate his illness, immediately took her leave, and retired to her own + room, whither she summoned Alley Mahon. This blunt but faithful attendant + felt no surprise in witnessing her grief; for indeed she had done little + else than weep, ever since she heard of her father's illness. + </p> + <p> + “Now don't cry so much, miss,” she said; “didn't I tell you that your + grief will do neither you nor him any good? Keep yourself cool and quiet, + and spake to him like a raisonable crayture, what you are not, ever since + you herd of his being sick. It isn't by shedding tears that you can expect + to comfort him, as you intend to do, but by being calm, and considerate, + and attentive to him, and not allowin' him to see what you suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very true, Alice, I admit,” replied Lucy; but when I consider + that it was my undutiful flight from him that occasioned this attack, how + can I free myself from blame? My heart, Alice, is divided between a + feeling of remorse for having deserted him without sufficient cause, and + grief for his illness, and in that is involved the apprehension of his + loss. After all, Alice, you must admit that I have no friend in the world + but my father. How, then, can I think of losing him?” + </p> + <p> + “And even if God took him,” replied Alley, “which I hope after all isn't + so likely—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, girl?” asked Lucy, ignorant that Alley only used a form + of speech peculiar to the people, “what language is this of my father?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I hope it's but the truth, miss,” replied the maid; “for if God was + to call him to-morrow—which may God forbid! you'd find friends that + would take care of you and protect you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but, Alice, if papa died, I should have to reproach myself with his + death; and that consideration would drive me distracted or kill me. I am + beginning to think that obedience to the will of a parent is, under all + circumstances, the first duty of a child. A parent knows better what is + for our good than we can be supposed to do. At all events, whatever + exceptions there may be to this rule, I care not. It is enough, and too + much, for me to reflect that my conduct has been the cause of papa's + illness. His great object in life was to promote my happiness. Now this + was affection for me. I grant he may have been mistaken, but still it was + affection; and consequently I cannot help admitting that even his + harshness, and certainly all that he suffered through the very violence of + his own passions, arose from the same source—affection for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” replied Alley, “it's aisy seen that your heart is softened now; but + in truth, miss, it was quare affection that would make his daughter + miserable, bekase he wanted her to become a great lady. If he was a kind + and raisonable father, he would not force you to be unhappy. An + affectionate father would give up the point rather than make you so; but + no; the truth is simply this, he wanted to gratify himself more than he + did you, or why would he act as he did?” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” replied Lucy, “remember that I will not suffer you to speak of my + father with disrespect. You forget yourself, girl, and learn from me now, + that in order to restore him to peace of mind and health, in order to + rescue him from death, and oh,” she exclaimed involuntarily, “above all + things from a death, for which, perhaps, he is not sufficiently prepared—as + who, alas, is for that terrible event!—yes in order to do this, I am + ready to yield an implicit obedience to his wishes: and I pray heaven that + this act on my part may not be too late to restore him to his health, and + relieve his mind from the load of care which presses it down upon my + account.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, Miss Gourlay,” exclaimed poor Alley, absolutely frightened by + the determined and vehement spirit in which these words were uttered, + “surely you wouldn't think of makin' a saickerfice of yourself that way?” + </p> + <p> + “That may be the word, Alice, or it may not; but if it be a sacrifice, and + if the sacrifice is necessary, it shall be made—I shall make it. My + disobedience shall never break my father's heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't wish to speak disrespectfully of your father, miss; but I think + he's an ambitious man.” + </p> + <p> + “And perhaps the ambition which he feels is a virtue, and one in which I + am deficient. You and I, Alice, know but little of life and the maxims by + which its great social principles are regulated.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, spake for yourself, miss; as for me, I'm the very girl that has + had my experience. No less than three did I manfully refuse, in spite of + both father and mother. First there was big Bob Broghan, a giant of a + fellow, with a head and pluck upon him that would fill a mess-pot. He had + a chape farm, and could afford to wallow like a swine in filth and + laziness. And well becomes the old couple, I must marry him, whether I + would or not. Be aisy, said I, it's no go; when I marry a man, it'll be + one that'll know the use of soap and wather, at all events. Well, but I + must; I did not know what was for my own good; he was rich, and I'd lead a + fine life with him. Scrape and clane him for somebody else, says I; no + such walkin' dungheap for me. Then they came to the cudgel, and flaked me; + but it was in a good cause, and I tould them that if I must die a marthyr + to cleanliness, I must; and at last they dropped it, and so I got free of + Bob Broghan. + </p> + <p> + “The next was a little fellow that kept a small shop of hucksthery, and + some groceries, and the like o' that. He was a near, penurious devil, hard + and scraggy lookin', with hunger in his face and in his heart, too; ay, + and besides, he had the name of not bein' honest. But then his shop was + gettin' bigger and bigger, and himself richer and richer every day. Here's + your man, says the old couple. Maybe not, says I. No shingawn that deals + in light weights and short measures for me. My husband must be an honest + man, and not a keen shaving rogue like Barney Buckley. Well, miss, out + came the cudgel again, and out came I with the same answer. Lay on, says + I; if I must die a marthyr to honesty, why I must; and may God have mercy + on me for the same, as he will. Then they saw that I was a rock, and so + there was an end of Barney Buckley, as well as Bob Broghan. + </p> + <p> + “Well and good; then came number three, a fine handsome young man, by name + Con Coghlan. At first I didn't much like him, bekase he had the name of + being too fond of money, and it was well known that he had disappointed + three or four girls that couldn't show guinea for guinea with him. The + sleeveen gained upon me, however, and I did get fond of him, and tould him + to speak to my father, and so he did, and they met once or twice to make + the match; but, ah, miss, every one has their troubles. On the last + meetin', when he found that my fortune wasn't what he expected, he shogged + off wid himself; and, mother o' mercy, did ever I think it would come to + that?” Here she wiped her eyes, and then with fresh spirit proceeded, “He + jilted me, Miss—the desateful villain jilted me; but if he did, I + had my revenge. In less than a year he came sneakin' back, and tould my + father that as he couldn't get me out of his head, he would take me with + whatever portion they could give me. The fellow was rich, Miss, and so the + ould couple, ready to bounce at him, came out again. Come, Alley, here's + Con Coghlan back. Well, then, says I, he knows the road home again, and + let him take it. One good turn desarves another. When he could get me he + wouldn't take me, and now when he would take me, he won't get me; so I + think we're even. + </p> + <p> + “Out once more came the cudgel, and on they laid; but now I wasn't common + stone but whitestone. Lay on, say I; I see, or rather I feel, that the + crown is before me. If I must die a marthyr to a dacent spirit, why I + must; and so God's blessing be with you all. I'll shine in heaven for this + yet. + </p> + <p> + “I think now, Miss, you'll grant that I know something about life.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” replied Lucy, “I have often heard it said, that the humblest + weeds which grow contain virtues that are valuable, if they were only + known. Your experience is not without a moral, and your last lover was the + worst, because he was mean; but when I think of him—the delicate, + the generous, the disinterested, the faithful, the noble-hearted—alas, + Alice!” she exclaimed, throwing herself in a fresh paroxysm of grief upon + the bosom of her maid, “you know not the incredible pain—the + hopeless agony—of the sacrifice I am about to make. My father, + however, is the author of my being, and as his very life depends upon my + strength of mind now, I shall, rather than see him die whilst I selfishly + gratify my own will—yes, Alice, I shall—I shall—and may + heaven give me strength for it!—I shall sacrifice love to duty, and + save him; that is, if it be not already too late.” + </p> + <p> + “And if he does recover,” replied Alice, whose tears flowed along with + those of her mistress, but whose pretty eye began to brighten with + indignant energy as she spoke, “if he does recover, and if ever he turns a + cold look, or uses a harsh word to you, may I die for heaven if he + oughtn't to be put in the public stocks and made an example of to the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “The scene, however, will be changed then, Alice; for the subject matter + of all our misunderstandings will have been removed. Yet, Alice, amidst + all the darkness and suffering that lie before me, there is one + consolation”—and as she uttered these words, there breathed + throughout her beautiful features a spirit of sorrow, so deep, so + mournful, so resigned, and so touching, that Alley in turn laid her head + on her bosom, exclaiming, as she looked up into her eyes, “Oh, may the God + of mercy have pity on you, my darling mistress! what wouldn't your + faithful Alley do to give you relief? and she can't;” and then the + affectionate creature wept bitterly. “But what is the consolation?” she + asked, hoping to extract from the melancholy girl some thought or view of + her position that might inspire them with hope or comfort. + </p> + <p> + “The consolation I allude to, Alice, is the well-known fact that a broken + heart cannot long be the subject of sorrow; and, besides, my farewell of + life will not be painful; for then I shall be able to reflect with peace + that, difficult as was the duty imposed upon me, I shall have performed + it. Now, dear Alice, withdraw; I wish to be alone for some time, that I + may reflect as I ought, and endeavor to gain strength for the sacrifice + that is before me.” + </p> + <p> + Her eye as she looked upon Alley was, though filled with a melancholy + lustre, expressive at the same time of a spirit so lofty, calm, and + determined, that its whole character partook of absolute sublimity. Alley, + in obedience to her words, withdrew; but not without an anxious and + earnest effort at imparting comfort. + </p> + <p> + When her maid had retired, Lucy began once more to examine her position, + in all its dark and painful aspects, and to reflect upon the destiny which + awaited her, fraught with unexampled misery as it was. Though well aware, + from former experience, of her father's hypocritical disguises, she was + too full of generosity and candor to allow her heart to entertain + suspicion. Her nature was one of great simplicity, artlessness, and truth. + Truth, above all things, was her predominant virtue; and we need not say, + that wherever it resides it is certain to become a guarantee for the + possession of all the rest. Her cruel-hearted father, himself false and + deceitful, dreaded her for this love of truth, and was so well acquainted + with her utter want of suspicion, that he never scrupled, though + frequently detected, to impose upon her, when it suited his purpose. This, + indeed, was not difficult; for such was his daughter's natural candor and + truthfulness, that if he deceived her by a falsehood to-day, she was as + ready to believe him to-morrow as ever. His last heartless act of + hypocrisy, therefore, was such a deliberate violation of truth as amounted + to a species of sacrilege; for it robbed the pure shrine of his own + daughter's heart of her whole happiness. Nay, when we consider the + relations in which they stood, it might be termed, as is beautifully said + in Scripture, “a seething of the kid in the mother's milk.” + </p> + <p> + As it was, however, her father's illness disarmed her generous and + forgiving spirit of every argument that stood in the way of the + determination she had made. His conduct she felt might, indeed, be the + result of one of those great social errors that create so much misery in + life; that, for instance, of supposing that one must ascend through + certain orders of society, and reach a particular elevation before they + can enjoy happiness. This notion, so much at variance with the goodness + and mercy of God, who has not confined happiness to any particular class, + she herself rejected; but, at the same time, the modest estimate which she + formed of her own capacity to reason upon or analyze all speculative + opinions, led her to suppose that she might be wrong, and her father + right, in the inferences which they respectively drew. Perhaps she thought + her reluctance to see this individual case through his medium, arose from + some peculiar idiosyncrasy of intellect or temperament not common to + others, and that she was setting a particular instance against a universal + truth. + </p> + <p> + That, however, which most severely tested her fortitude and noble sense of + what we owe a parent, resulted from no moral or metaphysical distinctions + of human duty, but simply and directly from what she must suffer by the + contemplated sacrifice. She was born in a position of life sufficiently + dignified for ordinary ambition. She was surrounded by luxury—had + received an enlightened education—had a heart formed for love—for + that pure and exalted passion, which comprehends and brings into action + all the higher qualities of our being, and enlarges all our capacities for + happiness. God and nature, so to speak, had gifted her mind with + extraordinary feeling and intellect, and her person with unusual grace and + beauty; yet, here, by this act of self-devotion to her father, she + renounced all that the human heart with such strong claims upon the + legitimate enjoyments of life could expect, and voluntarily entered into a + destiny of suffering and misery. She reflected upon and felt the + bitterness of all this; but, on the other hand, the contemplation of a + father dying in consequence of her disobedience—dying, too, probably + in an unprepared state—whose heart was now full of love and + tenderness for her; who, in fact, was in grief and sorrow in consequence + of what he had caused her to suffer. We say she contemplated all this, and + her great heart felt that this was the moment of mercy. + </p> + <p> + “It is resolved!” she exclaimed; “I will disturb him for a little. There + is no time now for meanly wrestling it out, for ungenerous hesitation and + delay. Suspense may kill him; and whilst I deliberate, he may be lost. + Father, I come, Never again shall you reproach me with disobedience. + Though your ambition may be wrong, yet who else than I should become the + victim of an error which originates in affection for myself? I yield at + last, as is my duty; now your situation makes it so; and my heart, though + crushed and broken, shall be an offering of peace between us. Farewell, + now, to love—to love legitimate, pure, and holy!—farewell to + all the divine charities and tendernesses of life which follow it—farewell + to peace of! heart—to the wife's pride of eye, to the husband's + tender glance—farewell—farewell to everything in this wretched + life but the hopes of heaven! I come, my father—I come. But I had + forgotten,” she said, “I must not see him without permission, nor + unannounced, as Gibson said. Stay, I shall ring for Gibson.” + </p> + <p> + “Gibson,” said she, when he had made his appearance, “try if your master + could see me for a moment; say I request it particularly, and that I shall + scarcely disturb him. Ask it as a favor, unless he be very ill indeed—and + even then do so.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Gibson went with this message, Lucy, feeling that it might be + dangerous to agitate her father by the exhibition of emotion, endeavored + to compose herself as much as she could, so that by the time of Gibson's + return, her appearance was calm, noble, and majestic. In fact, the + greatness—the heroic spirit—of the coming sacrifice emanated + like a beautiful but solemn light from her countenance, and on being + desired to go in, she appeared full of unusual beauty and composure. + </p> + <p> + On entering, she found her father much in the same position: his head, as + before, upon the pillows, and the nightcap drawn over his heavy brows. + </p> + <p> + “You wished to see me, my dear Lucy. Have you any favor to ask, my child? + If so, ask whilst I have recollection and consciousness to grant it. I can + refuse you nothing now, Lucy. I was wrong ever to struggle with you. It + was too much for me, for I am now the victim; but even that is well, for I + am glad it is not you.” + </p> + <p> + When he mentioned the word victim, Lucy felt as if a poniard had gone + through her heart; but she had already resolved that what must be done + should be done generously, consequently, without any ostentation of + feeling, and with as little appearance of self-sacrifice as possible. + </p> + <p> + It is not for us, she said to herself, to exaggerate the value of the gift + which we bestow, but rather to depreciate it, for it is never generous to + magnify an obligation. + </p> + <p> + “I have a favor to ask, papa,” said the generous and considerate girl. + </p> + <p> + “It is granted, my darling Lucy, before I hear it,” he replied. “What is + it? Oh how happy I feel that you have returned to me; I shall not now pass + away my last moments on a solitary deathbed. But what is your request, my + love?” + </p> + <p> + “You have to-day, papa, told me that the danger of your present attack + proceeds from the anxious state of your mind. Now, my request is, that I + may be permitted to make that state easier; to remove that anxiety, and, + if possible, all other anxiety and care that press upon you. You know, + papa, the topic upon which we have always differed; now, rather than any + distress of feeling connected with it should stand in the way of your + recovery, I wish to say that you may I count upon my most perfect + obedience.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the Dunroe business, dear Lucy?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the Dunroe business, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you mean to say that you are willing and ready to marry him?” + </p> + <p> + The reply to this was indeed the coming away of the branch by which she + had hung on the precipice of life. On hearing the question, therefore, she + paused a little; but the pause did not proceed from any indisposition to + answer it, but simply from what seemed to be the refusal of her natural + powers to enable her to do so. When about to speak, she felt as if all her + physical strength had abandoned her; as if her will, previously schooled + to the task, had become recusant. She experienced a general chill and + coldness of her whole body; a cessation for a moment or two of the action + of the heart, whilst her very sight became dim and indistinct. She + thought, however, in this unutterable moment of agony and despair, that + she must act; and without feeling able to analyze either her thoughts or + sensations, in this terrible tumult of her spirit, she heard herself + repeat the reply, “I am, papa.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment her father forgot his part, and started up into a sitting + posture with as much apparent energy as ever. Another moment, however, was + sufficient to make him feel his error. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said he, “what have I done? Let me pause a little, my dear Lucy; + that effort to express the joy you have poured into my heart was nearly + too much for me. You make this promise, Lucy, not with a view merely to + ease my mind and contribute to my recovery; but, should I get well, with a + firm intention to carry it actually into execution?” + </p> + <p> + “Such, papa, is my intention—my fixed determination, I should say; + but I ought to add, that it is altogether for your sake, dear papa, that I + make it. Now let your mind feel tranquillity and ease; dismiss every + anxiety that distresses you, papa; for you may believe your daughter, that + there is no earthly sacrifice compatible with her duties as a Christian + which she would not make for your recovery. This interview is now, + perhaps, as much as your state of health can bear. Think, then, of what I + have said, papa; let it console and strengthen; and then it will, I trust, + help at least to bring about your recovery. Now, permit me to withdraw.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment, my child. It is right that you should know the effect of + your goodness before you go. I feel already as if a mountain were removed + from my heart—even now I am better. God bless you, my own dearest + Lucy; you have saved your father. Let this consideration comfort you and + sustain you. Now you may go, my love.” + </p> + <p> + When Lucy withdrew, which she did with a tottering step, she proceeded to + her own chamber, which, now that the energy necessary for the struggle had + abandoned her, she entered almost unconsciously, and with a feeling of + rapidly-increasing weakness. She approached the bell to ring for her maid, + which she was able to do with difficulty; and having done so, she + attempted to reach the sofa; but exhausted and overwrought nature gave + way, and she fell just sufficiently near it to have her fall broken and + her head supported by it, as she lay there apparently lifeless. In this + state Alley Mahon found her; but instead of ringing an alarm, or + attempting to collect a crowd of the servants to witness a scene, and + being besides a stout as well as a discreet and sensible girl, she was + able to raise her up, place her on a sofa, until, by the assistance of + cold water and some patience, she succeeded in restoring her to life and + consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “On opening her eyes she looked about, and Alley observed that her lips + were parched and dry. + </p> + <p> + “Here, my darling mistress,” said the affectionate girl, who now wept + bitterly, “here, swallow a little cold water; it will moisten your lips, + and do you good.” + </p> + <p> + She attempted to do so, but Ally saw that her hand trembled too much to + bring the water to her own lips. On swallowing it, it seemed to relieve + her a little; she then looked up into Alley's face, with a smile of thanks + so unutterably sweet and sorrowful, that the poor girl's tears gushed out + afresh. + </p> + <p> + “Take courage, my darling mistress,” she replied; “I know that something + painful has happened; but for Christ's blessed sake, don't look so + sorrowful and broken-hearted, or you will—” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said she, interrupting her, in a calm, soft voice, like low + music, “open my bosom—open my bosom, Alice; you will find a + miniature there; take it out; I wish to look upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “O thin,” said the girl, as she proceeded to obey her, “happy is he that + rests so near that pure and innocent and sorrowful heart; and great and + good must he be that is worthy of it.” + </p> + <p> + There was in the look which Lucy cast upon her when she had uttered these + words a spirit of gentle but affectionate reproof; but she spoke it not. + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me, Alice,” she said; “but unlock it first; I feel that my + hands are too feeble to do so.” + </p> + <p> + Alice unlocked the miniature, and Lucy then taking it from her, looked + upon it for a moment, and then pressing it to her lips with a calm + emotion, in which grief and despair seemed to mingle, she exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “Alas! mamma, how much do I now stand in need of your advice and + consolation! The shrine in which your affection and memory dwelt, and + against whose troubled pulses your sweet and serene image lay, is now + broken. There, dearest mamma, you will find nothing in future but + affliction and despair. It has been said, that I have inherited your + graces and your virtues, most beloved parent; and if so, alas! in how + remote a degree, for who could equal you? But how would it have wining + your gentle and loving heart to know that I should have inherited your + secret griefs and sufferings? Yes, mamma, both are painted on that serene + brow; for no art of the limner could conceal their mournful traces, nor + remove the veil of sorrow which an unhappy destiny threw over your beauty. + There, in that clear and gentle eye, is still the image of your love and + sympathy—there is that smile so full of sweetness and suffering. + Alas, alas! how closely do we resemble each other in all things. Sweet and + blessed saint, if it be permitted, descend and let your spirit be with me—to + guide, to soothe, and to support me; your task will not be a long one, + beloved parent. From this day forth my only hope will be to join you. Life + has nothing now but solitude and sorrow. There is no heart with which I + can hold communion; for my grief, and the act of duty which occasions it, + must be held sacred from all.” + </p> + <p> + She kissed the miniature once more, but without tears, and after a little, + she made Alley place it where she had ever kept it—next her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said she, “I trust I will soon be with mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear mistress,” replied Alice, “don't spake so. I hope there's many a + happy and pleasant day before you, in spite of all that has come and gone, + yet.” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon the maid a look of incredulity so hopeless, that Alley + felt both alarmed and depressed. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know what I suffer, Alice,” she replied, “but I know it. This + miniature of mamma I got painted unknown to—unknown to—” (here + we need not say that she meant her father) “—any one except mamma, + the artist, and myself. It has laid next my heart ever since; but since + her death it has been the dearest thing to me on earth—one only + other object perhaps excepted. Yes,” she added, with a deep sigh, “I hope + I shall soon be with you, mamma, and then we shall never be separated any + more!” + </p> + <p> + Alley regretted to perceive that her grief now had settled down into the + most wasting and dangerous of all; for it was of that dry and silent kind + which so soon consumes the lamp of life, and dries up the strength of + those who unhappily fall under its malignant blight. + </p> + <p> + Lucy's journey, however, from Wicklow, the two interviews with her father, + the sacrifice she had so nobly made, and the consequent agitation, all + overcame her, and after a painful struggle between the alternations of + forgetfulness and memory, she at length fell into a troubled slumber. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. Lord Dunroe's Affection for his Father + </h2> + <h3> + —Glimpse of a new Character—Lord Gullamore's Rebuke to his + Son, who greatly refuses to give up his Friend. + </h3> + <p> + A considerable period now elapsed, during which there was little done that + could contribute to the progress of our narrative. Summer had set in, and + the Cullamore family, owing to the failing health of the old nobleman, had + returned to his Dublin residence, with an intention of removing to + Glenshee, as soon he should receive the advice of his physician. From the + day on which his brother's letter reached him, his lordship seemed to fall + into a more than ordinary despondency of mind. His health for years had + been very infirm, but from whatsoever cause it proceeded, he now appeared + to labor under some secret presentiment of calamity, against which he + struggled in vain. So at least he himself admitted. It is true that age + and a constitution enfeebled by delicate health might alone, in a + disposition naturally hypochondriac, occasion such anxiety; as we know + they frequently do even in the youthful. Be this as it may, one thing was + evident, his lordship began to sink more rapidly than he had ever done + before; and like most invalids of his class, he became wilful and + obstinate in his own opinions. His doctor, for instance, advised him to + remove to the delightful air of Glenshee Castle; but this, for some reason + or other, he peremptorily refused to do, and so long as he chose to remain + in town, so long were Lady Emily and her aunt resolved to stay with him. + Dunroe, also, was pretty regular in inquiries after his health; but + whether from a principle of filial affection, or a more flagitious motive, + will appear from the following conversation, which took place one morning + after breakfast, between himself and Norton. + </p> + <p> + “How is your father this morning, my lord?” inquired that worthy + gentleman. “I hope he is better.” + </p> + <p> + “A lie, Norton,” replied his lordship—“a lie, as usual. You hope no + such thing. The agency which is to follow on the respectable old peer's + demise bars that—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I give you my honor, my lord, you do me injustice. I am in no hurry with + him on that account; it would be unfeeling,and selfish.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tom,” replied the other, in that kind of contemptuous familiarity + which slavish minions or adroit knaves like Norton must always put up with + from such men, “now, Tom, my good fellow, you know the case is this—you + get the agency to the Cullamore property the moment my right honorable dad + makes his exit. If he should delay that exit for seven years to come, then + you will be exactly seven years short of the period in which you will + fleece me and my tenants, and put the wool on yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Only your tenants, my lord, if you please. I may shear them, a little, I + trust; but you can't suppose me capable of shearing—” + </p> + <p> + “My lordship. No, no, you are too honest; only you will allow me to + insinuate, in the meantime, that I believe you have fleeced me to some + purpose already. I do not allude to your gambling debts, which, with my + own, I have been obliged to pay; but to other opportunities which have + come in your way. It doesn't matter, however; you are a pleasant and a + useful fellow, and I believe that although you clip me yourself a little, + you would permit no one else to do so. And, by the way, talking of the + respectable old peer, he is anything but a friend of yours, and urged me + strongly to send you to the devil, as a cheat and impostor.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that, my lord?” asked Norton, with an interest which he could + scarcely disguise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he mentioned something of a conversation you had, in which you told + him, you impudent dog—and coolly to his face, too—that you + patronized his son while in France, and introduced him to several + distinguished French noblemen, not one of whom, he had reason to believe, + ever existed except in your own fertile and lying imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “And was that all?” asked Norton, who I began to entertain apprehensions + of Morty O'Flaherty; “did he mention nothing else?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Dunroe; “and you scoundrel, was not that a d—d deal + too much?” + </p> + <p> + Norton, now feeling that he was safe from Morty, laughed very heartily, + and replied, + </p> + <p> + “It's a fact, sure enough; but then, wasn't it on your lordship's account + I bounced? The lie, in point of fact, if it can be called one, was, + therefore, more your lordship's lie than mine.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean by 'if it can be called one'?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if I did not introduce you to real noblemen, I did to some spurious + specimens, gentlemen who taught you all the arts and etiquette of the + gaming-table, of which, you know very well, my lord, you were then so + shamefully ignorant, as to be quite unfit for the society of gentlemen, + especially on the continent.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Tom, and the state of my property now tells me at what cost you + taught me. You see these tenants say they have not money, plead hard + times, failure of crops, and depreciation of property.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and so they will plead, until I take them in hand.” + </p> + <p> + “And, upon my soul, I don't care how soon that may be.” + </p> + <p> + “Monster of disobedience,” said Norton, ironically, “is it thus you speak + of a beloved parent, and that parent a respectable old peer? In other + words, you wish him in kingdom come. Repent, my lord—retract those + words, or dread 'the raven of the valley'.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, Tom, there's no use in concealing it. It's not that I wish him + gone; but that I long as much to touch the property at large, as you the + agency. It's a devilish tough affair, this illness of his.” + </p> + <p> + “Patience, my lord, and filial affection.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he would either live or die; for, in the first case, I could marry + this brave and wealthy wench of the baronet's, which I can't do now, and + he in such a state of health. If I could once touch the Gourlay cash, I + were satisfied. The Gourlay estates will come to me, too, because there is + no heir, and they go with this wench, who is a brave wench, for that + reason.” + </p> + <p> + “So she has consented to have you at last?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think, Tom, she ever had any serious intention of declining the + coronet? No, no; she wouldn't be her father's daughter if she had.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but your lordship suspected that the fellow who shot you had made an + impression in that quarter.” + </p> + <p> + “I did for a time—that is, I was fool enough to think so; she is, + however, a true woman, and only played him off against me.” + </p> + <p> + “But why does she refuse to see you?” + </p> + <p> + “She hasn't refused, man; her health, they tell me, is not good of late; + of course, she is only waiting to gain strength for the interview, that is + all. Ah, Tom, my dear fellow, I understand women a devilish deal better + than you do.” + </p> + <p> + “So you ought; you have had greater experience, and paid more for it. What + will you do with the fair blonde, though. I suppose the matrimonial + compact will send her adrift.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose no such thing, then. I had her before matrimony, and I will have + her after it. No, Tom, I am not ungrateful; fore or aft, she shall be + retained. She shall never say that I acted unhandsomely by her, especially + as she has become a good girl and repented. I know I did her injustice + about the player-man. On that point she has thoroughly satisfied me, and I + was wrong.” + </p> + <p> + Norton gave him a peculiar look, one of those looks which an adept in the + ways of life, in its crooked paths and unprincipled impostures, not + unfrequently bestows upon the poor aristocratic dolt whom he is plundering + to his face. The look we speak of might be mistaken for surprise—it + might be mistaken for pity—but it was meant for contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said he, “you are too well versed in the ways of the world, + my lord, and especially in those of the fair sex, to be imposed upon. If + ever I met an individual who can read a man's thoughts by looking into his + face, your lordship is the man. By the way, when did you see your + father-in-law that is to be?” + </p> + <p> + “A couple of days ago. He, too, has been ill, and looks somewhat shaken. + It is true, I don't like the man, and I believe nobody does; but I like + very well to hear him talk of deeds, settlements, and marriage articles. + He begged of me, however, not to insist on seeing his daughter until she + is fully recovered, which he expects will be very soon; and the moment she + is prepared for an interview, he is to let me know. But, harkee, Tom, what + can the old earl want with me this morning, think you?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot even guess,” replied the other, “unless it be to prepare you for—” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is said that the fair lady with whom you are about to commit the + crime of matrimony is virtuous and religious, as well as beautiful and so + forth; and, in that case, perhaps he is about to prepare you for the + expected conference. I cannot guess anything else, unless, perhaps, it may + be the avarice of age about to rebuke the profusion and generosity of + youth. In that case, my lord, keep your temper, and don't compromise your + friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Never fear, Tom; I have already fought more battles on your account than + you could dream of. Perhaps, after all, it is nothing. Of late he has sent + for me occasionally, as if to speak upon some matter of importance, when, + after chatting upon the news of the day or lecturing me for supporting an + impostor—meaning you—he has said he would defer the subject on + which he wished to speak, until another opportunity. Whatever it is, he + seems afraid of it, or perhaps the respectable old peer is doting.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say, my lord, it is very natural he should at these years; but if + he,” proceeded Norton, laughing, “is doting now, what will you be at his + years? Here, however, is his confidential man, Morty O'Flaherty.” + </p> + <p> + O'Flaherty now entered, and after making a bow that still smacked strongly + of Tipperary, delivered his message. + </p> + <p> + “My masther, Lord Cullamore, wishes to see you, my lord. He has come down + stairs, and is facing the sun, the Lord be praised, in the back + drawin'-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Go, my lord,” said Norton; “perhaps he wishes you to make a third + luminary. Go and help him to face the sun.” + </p> + <p> + “Be my sowl, Mr. Norton, if I'm not much mistaken, it's the father he'll + have to face. I may as well give you the hard word, my lord—troth, I + think you had better be on your edge; he's as dark as midnight, although + the sun is in his face.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship went out, after having given two or three yawns, stretched + himself, and shrugged his shoulders, like a man who was about to enter + upon some unpleasant business with manifest reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” exclaimed Morty, looking after him, “there goes a cute boy—at + last, God forgive him, he's of that opinion himself. What a pity there's + not more o' the family; they'd ornament the counthry.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, rather, Morty, that there's one too many.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, and I'm sure, Barney, you oughtn't to think so. Beg pardon—Mr. + Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “Morty, curse you, will you be cautious? But why should I not think so?” + </p> + <p> + “For sound raisons, that no man knows better than yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not the only person that thinks there's one too many of the family, + Morty. In that opinion I am ably supported by his lordship, just gone out + there.” + </p> + <p> + “Where! Ay, I see whereabouts you are now. One too many—faith, so + the blessed pair of you think, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight, Morty; if the devil had the agency of the ancient earl's soul, I + would soon get that of his ancient property; but whilst he lives it can't + be accomplished. What do you imagine the old bawble wants with the young + one?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know; I'm hammerin' upon that for some time past, and can't + come at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then, let us get the materials first, and then put them on the + anvil of my imagination. <i>Imprimis</i>—which means, Morty, <i>in + the first place</i>, have you heard anything?” + </p> + <p> + “No; nothing to speak of.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in the second place, have you seen or observed anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no; not much.” + </p> + <p> + “Which means—both your answers included—that you have both + heard and seen—so I interpret 'nothing to speak of,' on the one + hand, and your 'not much,' on the other. Out with it; two heads are better + than one: what you miss, I may hit.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil's no match for you, Bar—Mr. Norton, and it's hard to + expect Dunroe should. I'll tell you, then—for, in troth, I'm as + anxious to come at the meanin' of it myself as you can be for the life of + you. Some few months ago, when we were in London, there came a man to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Name him, Morty.” + </p> + <p> + “His name was M'Bride.” + </p> + <p> + “M'Bride—proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “His name was M'Bride. His face was tanned into mahogany, just as every + man's is that has lived long in a hot country. 'Your name,' says he, 'is + O'Flaherty, I understand?'” + </p> + <p> + “'Morty O'Flaherty, at your sarvice,' says I, 'and how are you, sir? I'm + happy to see you; only in the mane time you have the advantage of me.'” + </p> + <p> + “'Many thanks to you,' said he, 'for your kind inquiries; as to the + advantage, I won't keep it long; only you don't seem to know your + relations.'” + </p> + <p> + “'Maybe not,' says I, 'they say it's a wise man that does. Are you one o' + them?'” + </p> + <p> + “'I'm one o' them, did you ever hear of ould Kid Flaherty?'” + </p> + <p> + “'Well, no; but I did of Buck Flaherty, that always went in boots and + buckskin breeches, and wore two watches and a silver-mounted whip.'” + </p> + <p> + “'Well, you must know that Kid was a son'—and here he pointed his + thumb over his left shoulder wid a knowin' grin upon him—'was a son + of the ould Buck's. The ould Buck's wife was a Murtagh; now she again had + a cousin named M'Shaughran, who was married upon a man by name M'Faddle. + M'Faddle had but one sisther, and she was cousin to Frank M'Fud, that + suffered for—but no matther—the M'Swiggins and the M'Fuds were + cleaveens to the third cousins of Kid Flaherty's first wife's + sister-in-law, and she again was married in upon the M'Brides of Newton + Nowhere—so that you see you and I are thirty-second cousins at all + events.'” + </p> + <p> + “'Well, anyway he made out some relationship between us, or at least I + thought he did—and maybe that was as good—and faith may be a + great deal better, for if ever a man had the look of a schemer about him + the same customer had. At any rate we had some drink together, and went on + very well till we got befuddled, which, it seems, is his besetting sin. It + was clearly his intention, I could see, to make me tipsy, and I dare say + he might a done so, only for a slight mistake he made in first getting + tipsy himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I'm not much the wiser of this,” observed Norton. “What are you + at?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither am I,” replied Morty; “and as to what I'm at—I dunna what + the devil I'm at. That's just what I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said the other, “we must have patience. Who did this fellow turn + out to be?” + </p> + <p> + “He insisted he was a relation of my own, as I tould you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil cares whether he was or not! What was he, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; what was he?—that's what I'm askin' you.” + </p> + <p> + “Proceed,” said Norton; “tell it your own way.” + </p> + <p> + “He said he came from the Aist Indies beyant; that he knew some members of + his lordship's family there; that he had been in Paris, and that while he + was there he larned to take French lave of his masther.” + </p> + <p> + “But who was his master?” + </p> + <p> + “That he would not tell me. However, he said he had been in Ireland for + some time before, where he saw an aunt of his, that was half mad; and then + he went on to tell me that he had been once at sarvice wid my masther, and + that if he liked he could tell him a secret; but then, he said, it + wouldn't be worth his while, for that he would soon know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very clear, perfectly transparent, nothing can be plainer. What a + Tipperary sphinx you are; an enigma, half man, half beast, although there + is little enigma in that, it is plain enough. In the meantime, you + bog-trotting oracle, say whether you are humbugging me or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Devil a bit I'm humbuggin' you; but proud as you sit there, you have + trotted more bogs and horses than ever I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind that, Morty. What did this end in?” + </p> + <p> + “End in!—why upon my conscience I don't think it's properly begun + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” exclaimed Norton, rising to go, or at least pretending to do + so. “Many thanks in the meantime for your information—it is + precious, invaluable.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, wait a minute. A few days ago I seen the same schemer skulkin' + about the house as if he was afeared o' bein' seen; and that beef and + mutton may be my poison, wid health to use them, but I seen him stealin' + out of his lordship's own room. So, now make money o' that; only when you + do, don't be puttin' it in circulation.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger of that, Morty, in any sense. At all events, I don't deal in + base coin.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you, faith. I wondher what do you call imposin' Barney Bryan, the + horse-jockey, on his lordship, for Tom Norton, the gentleman? However, no + matther—that's your own affair; and so long as you let the good ould + lord alone among you—keep your secret—I'm not goin' to + interfere wid you. None of your travellers' tricks upon him, though.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not on him, Morty; but concerning this forthcoming marriage, if it + takes place, I dare say I must travel; I can't depend upon Dunroe's word.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, unlikelier things has happened, Mr. Norton. I think you'll be forced + to set out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I only say that if Mr. Norton can prevent it, it won't happen. I + can wind this puppy of a lord, who has no more will of his own than a + goose, nor half so much; I say I can wind him round my finger; and if I + don't get him to make himself, in any interview he may have with her, so + egregiously ridiculous, as to disgust her thoroughly, my name's not Norton—hem—ha, + ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your name's not Norton—very good. In the mane time more power + to you in that; for by all accounts it's a sin and a shame to throw away + such a girl upon him.” + </p> + <p> + Norton now having gained all he could from his old acquaintance, got up, + and was about to leave the room, when Morty, looking at him significantly, + asked, + </p> + <p> + “Where are you bound for now, if it's a fair question?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, then, Morty—upon an affair that's anything but + pleasant to me, and withal a little dangerous: to buy a horse for Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, you may well say so; in God's name keep away from horses and. + jockeys, or you'll be found out; but, above all things, don't show your + face on the Curragh.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know. I believe, after all, there's no such vast + distinction there between the jockeys and the gentlemen. Sometimes the + jockey swindles himself up into a gentleman, and sometimes the gentleman + swindles himself down to a jockey. So far there would be no great mistake; + the only thing to be dreaded is, discovery, so far as it affects the + history which I gave of myself to Dunroe and his father. Then there is the + sale of some races against me on that most elastic sod; and I fear they + are not yet forgotten. Yes, I shall avoid the Curragh; but you know, a fit + of illness will easily manage that. However, pass that by; I wish I knew + what the old peer and the young one are discussing.” + </p> + <p> + “What now,” said Norton to himself, after Morty had gone, “can this + M'Bride be scheming about in the family? There's a secret here, I'm + certain. Something troubles the old peer of late, whatever it is. Well, + let me see; I'll throw myself in the way of this same M'Bride, and it will + go hard with me or I'll worm it out of him. The knowledge of it may serve + me. It's a good thing to know family secrets, especially for a hanger-on + like myself. One good effect it may produce, and that is, throw worthy + Lord Dunroe more into my power. Yes, I will see this M'Bride, and then let + me alone for playing my card to some purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Dunroe found his father much as Morty had described him—enjoying the + fresh breeze and blessed light of heaven, as both came in upon him through + the open window at which he sat. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of the good old man was much changed for the worse. His + face was paler and more emaciated than when we last described it. His chin + almost rested on his breast, and his aged-looking hands were worn away to + skin and bone. Still there was the same dignity about him as ever, only + that the traces of age and illness gave to it something that was still + more venerable and impressive. Like some portrait, by an old master, time, + whilst it mellowed and softened the colors, added that depth and + truthfulness of character by which the value I is at once known. He was + sitting in an arm-chair, with a pillow for his head to rest upon when he + wished it; and on his son's entrance he asked him to wheel it round nearer + the centre of the room, and let down the window. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you are better this morning, my lord?” inquired Dunroe. + </p> + <p> + “John,” said he in reply, “I cannot say that I am better, but I can that I + am worse.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear that, my lord,” replied the other, “the season is + remarkably fine, and the air mild and cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + “I would much rather the cheerfulness were here,” replied his father, + putting his wasted hand upon his heart; “but I did not ask you here to + talk about myself on this occasion, or about my feelings. Miss Gourlay has + consented to marry you, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “She has, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must confess I did her father injustice for a time. I ascribed + his extraordinary anxiety for this match less to any predilection of hers—for + I thought it was otherwise—than to his ambition. I am glad, however, + that it is to be a marriage, although I feel you are utterly unworthy of + her; and if I did not hope that her influence may in time, and in a short + time, too, succeed in bringing about a wholesome reformation in your life + and morals, I would oppose it still as far as lay in my power. It is upon + this subject I wish to speak with you.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Dunroe bowed with an appearance of all due respect, but at the same + time wished in his heart that Norton could be present to hear the lecture + which he had so correctly prognosticated, and to witness the ability with + which he should bamboozle the old peer. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, my lord,” he replied, “I am very willing and anxious to + hear and be guided by everything you shall say. I know I have been wild—indeed, + I am very sorry for it; and if it will satisfy you, my lord, I will add, + without hesitation, that it is time I should turn over a new leaf—hem!” + </p> + <p> + “You have, John, been not merely wild—for wildness I could overlook + without much severity—but you have been profligate in morals, + profligate in expenditure, and profligate in your dealings with those who + trusted in your integrity. You have been intemperate; you have been + licentious; you have been dishonest; and as you have not yet abandoned any + one of these frightful vices, I look upon your union with Miss Gourlay as + an association between pollution and purity.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very severe, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “I meant to be so; but am I unjust? Ah, John, let your own conscience + answer that question.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lord, I trust you will be gratified to hear that I am perfectly + sensible of the life I have led—ahem?” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that but admitting that you know the full extent of your + vices?—unless, indeed, you have made a firm resolution to give them + up.” + </p> + <p> + “I have made such a resolution, my lord, and it is my intention to keep + it. I know I can do little of myself, but I trust that where there is a + sincere disposition, all will go on swimmingly, as the Bible says—ahem!” + </p> + <p> + “Where does the Bible say that all will go on swimmingly?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't remember the exact chapter and verse, my lord,” he replied, + affecting a very grave aspect, “but I know it is somewhere in the Book of + Solomon—ahem!—ahem! Either in Solomon or Exodus the Prophet, I + am not certain which. Oh, no, by the by, I believe it is in the dialogue + that occurs between Jonah and the whale.” + </p> + <p> + His father looked at him as if to ascertain whether his worthy son were + abandoned enough to tamper, in the first place, with a subject so solemn, + and, in the next, with the anxiety of his own parent, while laboring, + under age and infirmity, to wean him from a course of dissipation and + vice. Little indeed did he suspect that his virtuous offspring was + absolutely enacting his part, for the purpose of having a good jest to + regale Norton with in the course of their evening's potations. + </p> + <p> + Let it not be supposed that we are overstepping the modesty of nature in + this scene. There is scarcely any one acquainted with life who does not + know that there are hundreds, thousands, of hardened profligates, who + would take delight, under similar circumstances, to quiz the governor—as + a parent is denominated by this class—even at the risk of incurring + his lasting displeasure, or of altogether forfeiting his affection, rather + than lose the opportunity of having a good joke to tell their licentious + companions, when they meet. The present age has as much of this, perhaps, + as any of its predecessors, if not more. But to return. + </p> + <p> + “I know not,” observed Lord Cullamore, “whether this is an ironical + affectation of ignorance, or ignorance itself; but on whichever horn of + the dilemma I hang you, Dunroe, you are equally contemptible and guilty. A + heart must be deeply corrupted, indeed, that can tempt its owner to + profane sacred things, and cast an aged and afflicted parent into + ridicule. You are not aware, unfortunate young man, of the precipice on + which you stand, or the dismay with which I could fill your hardened + heart, by two or three words speaking. And only that I was not a conscious + party in circumstances which may operate terribly against us both, I would + mention them to you, and make you shudder at the fate that is probably + before you.” + </p> + <p> + “I really think,” replied his son, now considerably alarmed by what he had + heard, “that you are dealing too severely with me. I am not, so far as I + know, profaning anything sacred; much less would I attempt to ridicule + your lordship. But the truth is, I know little or nothing of the Bible, + and consequently any mistaken references to it that I may sincerely make, + ought not to be uncharitably misinterpreted—ahem! 'We are going on + swimmingly' as Jonah said to the whale, or the whale to Jonah, I cannot + say which, is an expression which I have frequently heard, and I took it + for granted that it was a scriptural quotation. Your lordship is not + aware, besides, that I am afflicted with a very bad memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly aware of it, Dunroe: since I have been forced to observe that + you forget every duty of life. What is there honorable to yourself or your + position in the world, that you ever have remembered? And supposing now, + on the one hand, that you may for the present only affect a temporary + reformation, and put in practice that worst of vices, a moral expediency, + and taking it for granted, on the other, that your resolution to amend is + sincere, by what act am I to test that sincerity?” + </p> + <p> + “I will begin and read the Bible, my lord, and engage a parson to instruct + me in virtue. Isn't that generally the first step?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not forbid you the Bible, nor the instructions of a pious clergyman; + but I beg to propose a test that will much more satisfactorily establish + that sincerity. First, give up your dissipated and immoral habits; + contract your expenditure within reasonable limits; pay your just debts, + by which I mean your debts of honesty, not of honor—unless they have + been lost to a man of honor, and not to notorious swindlers; forbear to + associate any longer with sharpers and blacklegs, whether aristocratic or + plebeian; and as a first proof of the sincerity you claim, dismiss forever + from your society that fellow, Norton, who is, I am sorry to say, your + bosom friend and boon companion.” + </p> + <p> + “With every condition you have proposed, my lord, I am willing and ready + to comply, the last only excepted. I am sorry to find that you have + conceived so strong and unfounded a prejudice against Mr. Norton. You do + not know his value to me, my lord. He has been a Mentor to me—saved + me thousands by his ability and devotion to my interests. The fact is, he + is my friend. Now I am not prepared to give up and abandon my friend + without a just cause; and I regret that any persuasion to such an act + should proceed from you, my lord. In all your other propositions I shall + obey you implicitly; but in this your lordship must excuse me. I cannot do + it with honor, and therefore cannot do it at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I see, Dunroe, and I bitterly regret to see it—this fellow, + this Norton, has succeeded in gaining over you that iniquitous ascendancy + which the talented knave gains over the weak and unsuspicious fool. Pardon + me, for I speak plainly. He has studied your disposition and habits; he + has catered for your enjoyments; he has availed himself of your + weaknesses; he has flattered your vanity; he has mixed himself up in the + management of your affairs; and, in fine, made himself necessary to your + existence; yet you will not give him up?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I reply to you in one word—he IS MY FRIEND.” + </p> + <p> + A shade of bitterness passed over the old man's face as he turned a + melancholy look upon Dunroe. + </p> + <p> + “May you never live, Dunroe,” he said, “to see your only son refuse to + comply with your dying request, or to listen with an obedient I spirit to + your parting admonition. It is true, I am not, I trust, immediately dying, + and yet why should I regret it? But, at the same time, I feel that my + steps are upon the very threshold of death—a consideration which + ought to insure obedience to my wishes in any heart not made callous by + the worst experiences of life.” + </p> + <p> + “I would comply with your wishes, my lord,” replied Dunroe, “with the + sincerest pleasure, and deny myself anything to oblige you; but in what + you ask there is a principle involved, which I cannot, as a man of honor, + violate. And, besides, I really could not afford to part with him now. My + affairs are in such a state, and he is so well acquainted with them, that + to do so would ruin me.” + </p> + <p> + His father, who seemed wrapt in some painful reflection, paid no attention + to this reply, which, in point of fact, contained, so far as Norton was + concerned, a confirmation of the old man's worst suspicions. His chin had + sunk on his breast, and looking into the palms of his hands as he held + them clasped together, he could not prevent the tears from rolling slowly + down his furrowed cheeks. At length he exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “My child, Emily, my child! how will I look upon thee! My innocent, my + affectionate angel; what, what, oh what will become of thee? But it cannot + be. My guilt was not premeditated. What I did I did in ignorance; and why + should we suffer through the arts of others? I shall oppose them step by + step should they proceed. I shall leave no earthly resource untried to + frustrate their designs; and if they are successful, the cruel sentence + may be pronounced, but it will be over my grave. I could never live to + witness the sufferings of my darling and innocent child. My lamp of life + is already all but exhausted—this would extinguish it forever.” + </p> + <p> + He then raised his head, and after wiping away the tears, spoke to his son + as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Dunroe, be advised by me; reform your life; set your house in order, for + you know not, you see not, the cloud which is likely to burst over our + heads.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you do not, nor is it my intention that you should for the + present; but if you are wise, you will be guided by my instructions and + follow my advice.” + </p> + <p> + When Dunroe left him, which he did after some formal words of + encouragement and comfort, to which the old man paid little attention, + turning toward the door, which his son on going out had shut, he looked as + if his eye followed him beyond the limits of the room, and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Alas! why was I not born above the ordinary range of the domestic + affections? Yet so long as I have my darling child—who is all + affection—why should I complain on this account? Alas, my Maria, it + is now that thou art avenged for the neglect you experienced at my hands, + and for the ambition that occasioned it. Cursed ambition! Did the coronet + I gained by my neglect of you, beloved object of my first and only + affection, console my heart under the cries of conscience, or stifle the + grief which returned for you, when that ambition was gratified? Ah, that + false and precipitate step! How much misery has it not occasioned me since + I awoke from my dream! Your gentle spirit seemed to haunt me through life, + but ever with that melancholy smile of tender and affectionate reproach + with which your eye always encountered mine while living. And thou, wicked + woman, what has thy act accomplished, if it should be successful? What has + thy fraudulent contrivance effected? Sorrow to one who was ever thy friend—grief, + shame, and degradation to the innocent!” + </p> + <p> + Whilst the old man indulged in these painful and melancholy reflections, + his son, on the other hand, was not without his own speculations. On + retiring to his dressing-room, he began to ponder over the admonitory if + not prophetic words of his father. + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce can the matter be?” he exclaimed, surveying himself in the + glass; “a good style of face that, in the meantime. Gad, I knew she would + surrender in form, and I was right. Something is wrong with—that + gold button—yes, it looks better plain—the old gentleman—something's + in the wind—in the meantime I'll raise this window—or why + should he talk so lugubriously as he does? Upon my soul it was the most + painful interview I ever had. There is nothing on earth so stupid as the + twaddle of a sick old lord, especially when repenting for his sins. + Repentance! I can't at all understand that word; but I think the style of + the thing in the old fellow's hands was decidedly bad—inartistic, as + they say, and without taste; a man, at all events, should repent like a + gentleman. As far as I can guess at it, I think there ought to be + considerable elegance of manner in repentance—a kind of genteel + ambiguity, that should seem to puzzle the world as to whether you weep for + or against the sin; or perhaps repentance should say—as I suppose it + often does—'D—n me, this is no humbug; this, look you, is a + grand process—I know what I'm about; let the world look on; I have + committed a great many naughty things during my past life; I am now able + to commit no more; the power of doing so has abandoned me; and I call gods + and men to witness that I am very sorry for it.'—Now, that, in my + opinion, would be a good style of thing. Let me see, however, what the + venerable earl can mean. I am threatened, am I? Well, but nothing can + affect the title; of that I'm sure when the cue, 'exit old peer,' comes; + then, as to the property; why, he is one of the wealthiest men in the + Irish peerage, although he is an English one also. Then, what the deuce + can his threats mean? I don't know—perhaps he does not know himself; + but, in any event, and to guard against all accidents, I'll push on this + marriage as fast as possible; for, in case anything unexpected and + disagreeable should happen, it will be a good move to have something + handsome—something certain, to fall back upon.” + </p> + <p> + Having dressed, he ordered his horse, and rode out to the Phoenix Park, + accompanied by his shadow, Norton, who had returned, and heard with much + mirth a full history of the interview, with a glowing description of the + stand which Dunroe made for himself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. A Courtship on Novel Principles. + </h2> + <p> + Having stated that Sir Thomas Gourlay requested Dunroe to postpone an + interview with Lucy until her health should become reestablished, we feel + it necessary to take a glance at the kind of life the unfortunate girl led + from the day she made the sacrifice until that at which we have arrived in + this narrative. Since that moment of unutterable anguish her spirits + completely abandoned her. Naturally healthy she had ever been, but now she + began to feel what the want of it meant; a feeling which to her, as the + gradual precursor of death, and its consequent release from sorrow, + brought something like hope and consolation. Yet this was not much; for we + know that to the young heart entering upon the world of life and + enjoyment, the prospect of early dissolution, no matter by what hopes or + by what resignation supported, is one so completely at variance with the + mysterious gift of existence and the natural tenacity with which we cling + to it, that, like the drugs which we so reluctantly take during illness, + its taste upon the spirit is little else than bitterness itself. Lucy's + appetite failed her; she could not endure society, but courted solitude, + and scarcely saw any one, unless, indeed, her father occasionally, and her + maid Alley Mahon, when her attendance was necessary. She became pale as a + shadow, began to have a wasted appearance, and the very fountains of her + heart seemed to have dried up, for she found it impossible to shed a tear. + A dry, cold, impassive agony, silent, insidious, and exhausting, appeared + to absorb the very elements of life, and reduce her to a condition of such + physical and morbid incapacity as to feel an utter inability, or at all + events disinclination, to complain. + </p> + <p> + Her father's interviews with her were not frequent. That worthy man, + however, looked upon all her sufferings as the mere pinings of a + self-willed girl, lovesick and sentimental, such as he had sometimes heard + of, or read in books, and only worthy to be laughed at and treated with + contempt. He himself was now progressing in an opposite direction, so far + as health was concerned, to that of his daughter. In other words, as she + got ill, he gradually, and with a progress beautifully adapted to the + accomplishment of his projects, kept on recovering. This fact was Lucy's + principal, almost her sole consolation; for here, although she had + sacrificed herself, she experienced the satisfaction of seeing that the + sacrifice was not in vain. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, and notwithstanding his base and ungodly views of life, + let us ask, had the baronet no painful visitations of remorse in + contemplating the fading form and the silent but hopeless agony of his + daughter? Did conscience, which in his bosom of stone indulged in an + almost unbroken slumber, never awaken to scourge his hardened spirit with + her whip of snakes, and raise the gloomy curtain that concealed from him + the dark and tumultuous fires that await premeditated guilt and + impenitence? We answer, he was man. Sometimes, especially in the solemn + hours of night, he experienced brief periods, not of remorse, much less of + repentance, but of dark, diabolical guilt—conscious guilt, + unmitigated by either penitence or remorse, as might have taught his + daughter, could she have known them, how little she herself suffered in + comparison with him. These dreadful moments remind one of the heavings of + some mighty volcano, when occasioned by the internal stragglings of the + fire that is raging within it, the power and fury of which may be + estimated by the terrible glimpses which rise up, blazing and smouldering + from its stormy crater. + </p> + <p> + “What am I about?” he would say. “What a black prospect does life present + to me! I fear I am a bad man. Could it be possible now, that there are + thousands of persons in life who have committed great crimes in the face + of society, who, nevertheless, are not responsible for half my guilt? Is + it possible that a man may pass through the world, looking on it with a + plausible aspect, and yet become, from the natural iniquity of his + disposition and the habitual influence of present and perpetual evil + within him, a man of darker and more extended guilt than the murderer or + robber? Is it, then, the isolated crime, the crime that springs from + impulse, or passion, or provocation, or revenge?—or is it the black + unbroken iniquity of the spirit, that constitutes the greater offence, or + the greater offender against society? Am I, then, one of I those + reprobates of life in whom there is everything adverse to good and + friendly to evil, yet who pass through existence with a high head, and + look upon the public criminal and felon with abhorrence or affected + compassion? But why investigate myself? Here I am; and that fact is the + utmost limit to which my inquiries and investigations can go. I am what I + am: besides, I did not form nor create myself. I am different from my + daughter, she is different from me. I am different from most people. In + what? May I not have a destined purpose in creation to fulfil; and is it + not probable that my natural disposition has been bestowed upon me for the + purpose of fulfilling it? Yet if all were right, how account for these + dreadful and agonizing glimpses of my inner life which occasionally visit + me? But I dare say every man feels them. What are they, after all, but the + superstitious operations of conscience—of that grim spectre which is + conjured up by the ridiculous fables of the priest and nurse? Conscience! + Why, its fearful tribunal is no test of truth. The wretched anchorite will + often experience as much remorse if he neglect to scourge his miserable + carcass, as the murderer who sheds the blood of man—or more. Away + with it! I am but a fool for allowing it to disturb me at all, or mar my + projects.” + </p> + <p> + In this manner would he attempt to reason himself out of these dreadful + visitations, by the shallow sophistry of the sceptic and infidel. + </p> + <p> + The time, however, he thought, was now approaching when it was necessary + that something should be done with respect to Lucy's approaching marriage. + He accordingly sent for her, and having made very affectionate inquiries + after her health, for he had not for a moment changed the affected + tenderness of his manner, he asked if she believed herself capable of + granting an interview to Lord Dunroe. Lucy, now that escape from the + frightful penalty of her obedience was impossible, deemed it, after much + painful reflection, better to submit with as little apparent reluctance as + possible. + </p> + <p> + “I fear, papa,” she said, in tones that would have touched and softened + any heart but that to which she addressed herself, “I fear that it is + useless to wait until I am better. I feel my strength declining every day, + without any hope of improvement. I may therefore as well see him now as at + a future time.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lucy, I know that you enter into this engagement with reluctance. + I know that you do it for my sake; and you may rest assured that your + filial piety and obedience will be attended with a blessing. After + marriage you will find that change of scene, Dunroe's tenderness, and the + influence of enlivening society, will completely restore your health and + spirits. Dunroe's a rattling, pleasant fellow; and notwithstanding his + escapades, has an excellent heart. Tut, my dear child, after a few months + you will yourself smile at these girlish scruples, and thank papa for + forcing you into happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's large eyes had been fixed upon him while he spoke, and as he + concluded, two big tears, the first she had shed for weeks, stood within + their lids. They seemed, however, but visionary; for although they did + fall they soon disappeared, having been absorbed, as it were, into the + source from which they came, by the feverish heat of her brain. + </p> + <p> + “It is enough, papa,” she said; “I am willing to see him—willing to + see him whenever you wish. I am in your hands, and neither you nor he need + apprehend any further opposition from me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a good girl, Lucy; and you may believe me again that this + admirable conduct of yours will have its reward in a long life of future + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Future happiness, papa,” she replied, with a peculiar emphasis on the + word; “I hope so. May I withdraw, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You may, my dear child. God bless and reward you, Lucy. It is to your + duty I owe it that I am a living man—that you have a father.” + </p> + <p> + When she had gone, he sat down to his desk, and without losing a moment + sent a note to Dunroe, of which the following is a copy: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lord Dunroe,—I am happy to tell you that Lucy is getting on + famously. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you know, I suppose, that these vaporish affections are, with + most young girls, nothing but the performance of the part which they + choose to act before marriage; the mere mists of the morning, poor + wenches, which only prognosticate for themselves and their husbands an + unclouded day. All this make-believe is very natural; and it is a good + joke, besides, to see them pout and look grave, and whine and cry, and + sometimes do the hysteric, whilst they are all the time dying in secret, + the hypocritical baggages, to get themselves transformed into matrons. + Don't, therefore, be a whit surprised or alarmed if you find Miss Lucy in + the pout—she is only a girl, after all, and has her little part to + play, as well as the best of them. Still, such a change is often in + reality a serious one to a young woman; and you need not be told that no + animal will allow itself to be caught without an effort. When you see her, + therefore, pluck up your spirits, rattle away, laugh and jest, so as, if + possible, to get her into good humor, and there is no danger of you. Or + stay—I am wrong. Had you followed this advice, it would have played + the deuce with you. Don't be merry. On the contrary, pull a long face—be + grave and serious; and if you can imitate the manner of one of those + fellows who pass for young men of decided piety, you were nothing but a + made man. Have you a Bible? If you have, commit half-a-dozen texts to + memory, and intersperse them judiciously through your conversation. Talk + of the vanity of life, the comforts of religion, and the beauty of + holiness. But don't overdo the thing either. Just assume the part of a + young person on whose mind the truth is beginning to open, because Lucy + knows now very well that these rapid transitions are suspicious. At all + events, you will do the best you can; and if you are here to-morrow—say + about three o'clock—she will see you. + </p> + <p> + “Ever, my dear Dunroe, + </p> + <p> + “Faithfully, your father-in-law that is to be, + </p> + <p> + “Thomas Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + This precious epistle Dunroe found upon his table after returning from his + ride in the Phoenix Park; and having perused it, he immediately rang for + Norton, from whom he thought it was much too good a thing to be concealed. + </p> + <p> + “Norton,” said he, “I am beginning to think that this black fellow, the + baronet, is not such a disgraceful old scoundrel as I had thought him. + There's not a bad thing in its way—read it.” + </p> + <p> + Norton, after throwing his eye over it, laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Egad,” said he, “that fellow has a pretty knowledge of life; but it is + well he recovered himself in the instructions, for, from all that I have + heard of Miss Gourlay, his first code would have ruined you, sure enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I will break down, however, in the hypocrisy. I failed + cursedly with the old peer, and am not likely to be more successful with + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I question whether hypocrisy would sit well upon one who has been + so undisguised an offender. The very assumption of it requires some + training. I think a work to be called 'Preparations for Hypocrisy' would + be a great book to the general mass of mankind. You cannot bound at one + step from the licentious to the hypocritical, unless, indeed, upon the + convenient principle of instantaneous conversion. The thing must be done + decently, and by judicious gradations, nor is the transition attended with + much difficulty, in consequence of the natural tendency which hypocrisy + and profligacy always have to meet. Still, I think you ought to attempt + the thing. Get by heart, as her father advises, half-a-dozen serious texts + of Scripture, and drop one in now and then, such as, 'All flesh is grass.' + 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' 'He that marrieth not doth + well, but he that marrieth doth better.' To be sure, there is a slight + inversion of text here, but then it is made more appropriate.” + </p> + <p> + “None of these texts, however,” replied his lordship, “except the last, + are applicable to marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better; that will show her that you can think of other and + more serious things.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are very few things more serious, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events,” proceeded the other, “it will be original, and + originality, you know, is your <i>forte</i>. I believe it is supposed that + she has no great relish for this match, and is not overburdened with + affection for you?” + </p> + <p> + “She must have changed, though,” replied his lordship, “or she wouldn't + have consented.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be; but if she should candidly tell you that she does not like + you—why, in that case, your originality must bear you out. Start + some new and original theory on marriage; say, for instance, that your + principle is not to marry a girl who does love you, but rather one who + feels the other way. Dwell fearfully on the danger of love before + marriage: and thus strike out strongly upon the advantages of indifference—honest + indifference. By this means you will meet all her objections, and be able + to capsize her on every point.” + </p> + <p> + “Norton,” said his lordship, “I think you are right. My originality will + carry the day; but in the meantime you must give me further instructions + on the subject, so that I may be prepared at all points.” + </p> + <p> + “By the by, Dunroe, you will be a happy fellow. I am told she is a + magnificent creature; beautiful, sensible, brilliant, and mistress of many + languages.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to be compared with the blonde, though.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say,” replied Norton, “having not yet seen her. You will get + very fond of her, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Fond—'gad, I hope it will never come to that with me. The moment a + man suffers himself to become fond of his wife, he had better order his + Bible and Prayer-book at once—it is all up with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant you it's an unfortunate condition to get into; and the worst of + it is, that once you are in, it is next to an impossibility to get out. Of + course, you will take care to avoid it, for your own sake, and, if you + have no objection, for mine. Perhaps her ladyship may take a fancy to + support the venerable peer against me in recommending the process of John + Thrustout. If so, Dunroe, whatever happiness your marriage may bring + yourself, it will bring nothing but bitterness and calamity to me. I am + now so much accustomed—so much—so much—hang it, why + conceal it?—so much attached and devoted to you—that a + separation would be the same as death to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Never fear, Norton,” replied Dunroe, “I have not yielded to my father on + this point, neither shall I to my wife. Happen what may, my friend must + never be given up for the whim of any one. But, indeed, you need entertain + no apprehensions. I am not marrying the girl for love, so that she is not + likely to gain any ascendancy whatever over me. It is her fortune and + property that have attracted my affections, just as the title she will + enjoy has inveigled those of the old father.” + </p> + <p> + Norton, in deep emotions of gratitude, ably sustained, had already seized + the hand of his patron, and was about to reply—but the effort was + too much for him; his heart was too full; he felt a choking; so, clapping + his handkerchief to his face with one hand, and the other upon his heart, + he rushed out of the room, lest Dunroe might perceive the incredible force + of his affection for him. + </p> + <p> + The next day, when Dunroe made his appearance in the drawing-room, Lucy, + before descending, felt as one may be supposed to do who stands upon the + brow of a precipice, conscious at the same time that not only is retreat + from this terrible position impossible, but that the plunge must be made. + On this occasion she experienced none of that fierce energy which + sometimes results from despair, and which one might imagine to have been + in accordance with her candid and generous character, when driven as she + was to such a step. On the contrary, she felt calm, cold, and apathetic. + Her pulse could scarcely be perceived by Alley Mahon; and all the physical + powers of life within her seemed as if about to suspend their functions. + Her reason, however, was clear, even to torture. Those tumultuous + vibrations of the spirit—those confused images and unsettled + thoughts of the brain; and all those excited emotions of the heart, that + are usually called into existence in common minds by such scenes, would + have been to her as a relief, in comparison to what she experienced. In + her case there was a tranquillity of agony—a quiet, unresisting + submission—a gentle bowing of the neck to the stake, at the + sacrifice that resulted from the clear perception of her great mind, which + thus, by its very facility of apprehension, magnified the torture she + suffered. Whilst descending the stairs, she felt such a sinking of the + soul within her, as the unhappy wretch does who ascends from those which + lead to that deadly platform from which is taken the terrible spring into + eternity. + </p> + <p> + On entering the room she saw herself in the large mirror that adorned the + mantel-piece, and felt for the first time as if all this was some dreadful + dream. The reality, however, of the misery she felt was too strongly in + her heart to suffer this consoling fiction, painful even though it was, to + remain. The next moment she found Lord Dunroe doing her homage and + obeisance,—an obeisance which she returned with a lady-like but + melancholy grace, that might have told to any other observer the + sufferings she felt, and the sacrifice she was making. + </p> + <p> + Dunroe, with as much politeness as he could assume, handed her to the + sofa, close to which he drew a chair, and opened the dialogue as follows: + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear that you have not been well, Miss Gourlay. Life, + however, is uncertain, and we should always be prepared—at least, so + says Scripture. All flesh is grass, I think is the expression—ahem.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked at him with a kind of astonishment; and, indeed, we think our + readers will scarcely feel surprised that she did so; the reflection being + anything but adapted to the opening of a love scene. + </p> + <p> + “Your observation, my lord,” she replied, “is very true—too true, + for we rarely make due preparation for death.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can conceive, readily enough,” replied his lordship, “why the man + that wrote the Scripture used the expression. Death, you know Miss + Gourlay, is always represented as a mower, bearing a horrible scythe, and + an hour-glass. Now, a mower, you know, cuts down grass; and there is the + origin of the similitude.” + </p> + <p> + “And a very appropriate one it is, I think,” observed Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I dare say it is; but somewhat vulgar though. I should be disposed + to say, now, that the man who wrote that must have been a mower himself + originally.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy made no reply to this sapient observation. His lordship, however, who + seemed to feel that he had started upon a wrong principle, if not a + disagreeable one, went on: + </p> + <p> + “It is not, however, to talk of death, Miss Gourlay, that we have met, but + of a very different and much more agreeable subject—marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “To me, my lord,” she replied, “death is the more agreeable of the two.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear that, Miss Gourlay; but I think you are in low + spirits, and that accounts for it. Your father tells me, however, that I + have your permission to urge my humble claims. He says you have kindly and + generously consented to look upon me, all unworthy as I feel I am, as your + future husband.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, my lord, I have consented to this projected union; but I feel + that it is due to your lordship to state that I have done so under very + painful and most distressing circumstances. It is better I should speak + now, my lord, than at a future day. My father's mind has been seized by an + unaccountable ambition to see me your wife. This preyed upon him so + severely that he became dangerously ill.” Here, however, from delicacy to + the baronet, she checked herself, but added, “Yes, my lord, I have + consented; but, understand me—you have not my affections.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as to that, Miss Gourlay, I have myself peculiar opinions; and I am + glad that they avail me here. You will think it odd, now, that I had made + my mind up never to marry a woman who loved me. This is really fortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose you don't; but I shall make myself intelligible as well + as I can. Love before marriage, in my opinion, is exceedingly dangerous to + future happiness; and I will tell you why I think so. In the first place, + a great deal of that fuel which feeds the post-matrimonial flame is burned + away and wasted unnecessarily; the imagination, too, is raised to a + ridiculous and most enthusiastic expectation of perpetual bliss and + ecstasy; then comes disappointment, coolness, indifference, and the lights + go out for want of the fuel I mentioned; and altogether the domestic life + becomes rather a dull and tedious affair. The wife wonders that the + husband is no longer a, lover; and the husband cannot for the soul of him + see all the—the—the—ahem!—I scarcely know what to + call them—that enchanted him before marriage. Then, you perceive, + that when love is necessary, the fact comes out that it was most + injudiciously expended before the day of necessity. Both parties feel, in + fact, that the property has been prematurely squandered—like many + another property—and when it is wanted, there is nothing to fall + back upon. I wish to God affection could be funded, so that when a married + couple found themselves low in pocket in that commodity they could draw + the interest or sell out at once.” + </p> + <p> + “And what can you expect, my lord, from those who marry without + affection?” asked Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “Ten chances for happiness,” replied his lordship, “for one that results + from love. When such persons meet, mark you, Miss Gourlay, they are not + enveloped in an artificial veil of splendor, which the cares of life, and + occasionally a better knowledge of each other, cause to dissolve from + about them, leaving them stripped of those imaginary qualities of mind and + person which never had any existence at all, except in their hypochondriac + brains, when love-stricken; whereas, your honest, matter-of-fact people + come together—first with indifference, and, as there is nothing + angelic to be expected on either side, there is consequently no + disappointment. There has, in fact, been no sentimental fraud committed—no + swindle of the heart—for love, too, like its relation, knavery, has + its black-legs, and very frequently raises credit upon false pretences; + the consequence is, that plain honesty begins to produce its natural + effects.” + </p> + <p> + “Can this man,” thought Lucy, “have been taking lessons from papa? And + pray, my lord,” she proceeded, “what are those effects which marriage + without love—produces?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, a good honest indifference, in the first place, which keeps the + heart easy and somewhat indolent withal. There is none of that sharp + jealousy which is perpetually on the spy for offence. None of that pulling + and pouting—falling out and falling in—which are ever the + accessories of love. On the contrary, honest indifference minds the family—honest + indifference, mark, buys the beef and mutton, reckons the household linen—eschews + parties and all places of fashionable resort, attends to the children—sees + them educated, bled, blistered, et cetera, when necessary; and, what is + still better, looks to their religion, hears them their catechism, brings + them, in their clean bibs and tuckers, to church, and rewards that one who + carries home most of the sermon with a large lump of sugar-candy.” + </p> + <p> + “These are very original views of marriage, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” thought his lordship, “I knew the originality would catch her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the fact is, Miss Gourlay, that I believe—at least I think I + may say—that originality is my forte. I have a horror against + everything common.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so, my lord,” replied Lucy; “your sense, for instance, is + anything but common sense.” + </p> + <p> + “You are pleased to flatter me, Miss Gourlay, but you speak very truly; + and that is because I always think for myself—I do not wish to be + measured by a common standard.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very right; my lord; it would be difficult, I fear, to find a + common standard to measure you by. One would imagine, for instance, that + you have been on this principle absolutely studying the subject of + matrimony. At least, you are the first person I have ever met who has + succeeded in completely stripping it of common sense, and there I must + admit your originality.” + </p> + <p> + “Gad!” thought his lordship, “I have her with me—I am getting on + famously.” + </p> + <p> + “They would imagine right, Miss Gourlay; these principles are the result + of a deep and laborious investigation into that mysterious and awful + topic. Honest indifference has no intrigues, no elopements, no disgraceful + trials for criminal conversation, no divorces. No; your lovers in the yoke + of matrimony, when they tilt with each other, do it sharply, with naked + weapons; whereas, the worthy indifferents, in the same circumstances, have + a wholesome regard for each other, and rattle away only with the + scabbards. Upon my honor, Miss Gourlay, I am quite delighted to hear that + you are not attached to me. I can now marry upon my own principles. It is + not my intention to coax, and fondle, and tease you after marriage; not at + all. I shall interfere as little as possible with your habits, and you, I + trust, as little with mine. We shall see each other only occasionally, say + at church, for instance, for I hope you will have no objection to + accompany me there. Neither man nor woman knows what is due to society if + they pass through the world without the comforts of religion. All flesh—ahem!—no—sufficient + unto the day—as Scripture says.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I think marriage a solemn subject, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Most people find it so, Miss Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + —“And on that account that it ought to be exempted from ridicule.” + </p> + <p> + “I perfectly agree with you, Miss Gourlay: it is indeed a serious subject, + and ought not to be sported with or treated lightly.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Lucy, “I must crave your attention for a few moments. I + believe the object of this interview is to satisfy you that I have given + the consent which my father required and entreated of me. But, my lord, + you are mistaken. Our union cannot take place upon your principles, and + for this reason, there is no indifference in the case, so far, at least, + as I am concerned. It would not become me to express here, under my + father's roof, the sentiments which I feel. Your own past life, my lord—your + habits, your associates, may enable you to understand them. It is enough + to say, that in wedding you I wed misery, wretchedness, despair; so that, + in my case, at least, there is no 'sentimental fraud' committed.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it, Miss Gourlay; your conduct, I say, is candid and + honorable; and I am quite satisfied that the woman who has strength of + mind and love of truth to practice this candor before marriage, gives the + best security for fidelity and all the other long list of matrimonial + virtues afterwards. I am perfectly charmed with your sentiments. Indeed I + was scarcely prepared for this. Our position will be delightful. The only + thing I have any apprehension of is, lest this wholesome aversion might + gradually soften into fondness, which, you know, would be rather + unpleasant to us both.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” replied Lucy, rising up with disdain and indignation glowing in + her face, “there is one sentiment due to every woman whose conduct is well + regulated and virtuous—that sentiment is, respect. From you on this + occasion, at least, and on this subject especially, I had thought myself + entitled to it. I find I have been mistaken, however. Such a sentiment is + utterly incompatible with the heartless tirade of buffoonery in which you + have indulged. This dialogue is very painful, my lord. I have already + intimated to you that I am prepared to fulfil the engagement into which my + father has entered with you. I know—I feel what the result will be—you + are to consider me your victim, my lord, as well as your wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Miss Gourlay, I was utterly unconscious of any buffoonery. + Upon my honor, I expressed on the subject of matrimony no principles that + I do not feel; but as to your charge of disrespect, I solemnly assure you + there is not an individual of your sex in existence whom I respect more + highly; nor do I believe there is a lady living more signally entitled to + it from all who have the honor to know her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if you be serious, my lord, it betrays a painful equality between + your understanding and your heart. No man with such a heart should enter + into the state of matrimony at all; and no man with an understanding level + to such principles is capable either of communicating or receiving + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, suppose I say that I shall submit myself in everything to + your wishes?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I should reply, that the husband capable of doing so would + experience from me a sentiment little short of contempt. What, my lord! so + soon to abandon your favorite principles! That is a proof, I fear, that, + after all, you place but little value on them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I know I have not been so good a boy as I ought to have been; I + have been naughty now and then; and as I intend to reform, I shall make + you my guide and adviser. I assure you, I am perfectly serious in the + reformation. It shall be on quite an original scale. I intend to repent, + Miss Gourlay; but, then, my repentance won't be commonplace repentance. I + shall do the thing with an aristocratic feeling—or, in other words, + I shall repent like a man of honor and a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Like anything but a Christian, my I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so; I must be original or die. I will give up everything; for, after + all. Miss Gourlay, what is there more melancholy than the vanity of life—unless, + indeed, it be the beauty of holiness—ahem! All flesh—no—I + repeated that sweet text before. He that marrieth doth well; but he that + marrieth not doth better. Sufficient unto the day—No, hang it, I + think I misquoted it. I believe it runs correctly—He that giveth + 'way, does well; but he that giveth not way, does better: then, I believe, + comes in, Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. What beautiful and + appropriate texts are to be found in Scripture, Miss Gourlay! By the way, + the man that wrote it was a shrewd fellow and a profound thinker. The only + pity is, that the work's anonymous.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy rose, absolutely sickened, and said, “My lord, excuse me. The object + of our interview has been accomplished, and as I am far from well, you + will permit me to withdraw. In the meantime, pray make whatever + arrangements and hold, whatever interviews may be necessary in this + miserable and wretched business; but henceforth they must be with my + father.” + </p> + <p> + “You are surely not going, Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + She replied not, but turning round, seemed to reflect for a moment, after + which she spoke as follows: + </p> + <p> + “I cannot bring myself to think, my lord, after the unusual opinions you + have expressed, that you have been for one moment serious in the + conversation which has taken place between us. Their strangeness and + eccentricity forbid me to suppose this; and if I did not think that it is + so, and that, perhaps, you are making an experiment upon my temper and + judgment, for some purpose at present inconceivable; and if I did not + think, besides, notwithstanding these opinions, that you may possess + sufficient sense and feeling to perceive the truth and object of what I am + about to say, I would not remain one moment longer in your society. I + request, therefore, that you will be serious for a little, and hear me + with attention, and, what is more, if you can, with sympathy. My lord, the + highest instance of a great and noble mind is to perform a generous act; + and when you hear from my own lips the circumstances which I am about to + state, I would hope to find you capable of such an act. I am now appealing + to your generosity—your disinterestedness—your magnanimity + (and you ought to be proud to possess these virtues)—to all those + principles that honor and dignify our nature, and render man a great + example to his kind. My lord, I am very unhappy—I am miserable—I + am wretched; so completely borne down by suffering that life is only a + burden, which I will not be able long to bear; and you, my lord, are the + cause of all this anguish and agony.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honor, Miss Gourlay, I am very much concerned to hear it. I would + rather the case were otherwise, I assure you. Anything that I can do, I + needn't say, I shall be most happy to do; but proceed, pray.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I throw myself upon your generosity; do you possess it? Upon + your feeling as a man, upon your honor as a gentleman. I implore, I + entreat you, not to press this unhappy engagement. I implore you for my + sake, for the sake of humanity, for the sake of God; and if that will not + weigh with you, then I ask it for the sake of your own honor, which will + be tarnished by pressing it on. I have already said that you possess not + my affections, and that to a man of honor and spirit ought to be + sufficient; but I will go farther, and say, that if there be one man + living against a union with whom I entertain a stronger and more + unconquerable aversion than another, you are that man.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know, Miss Gourlay, if I may interrupt you for a moment, that + that fact completely falls into my principles. There is only one other + circumstance wanting to make the thing complete; but perhaps you will come + to it; at least I hope so. Pray, proceed, madam; I am all attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied, “I shall proceed; because I would not that my + conscience should hereafter reproach me for having left anything undone to + escape this misery. My lord, I implore you to spare me; force me not over + the brow of this dreadful precipice; have compassion on me—have + generosity—act with honor.” + </p> + <p> + “I would crown you with honor, if I could, Miss Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + “You are about to crown me with fire, my lord; to wring my spirit with + torture; to drive me into distraction—despair—madness. But you + will not do so. You know that I cannot love you. I am not to blame for + this; our affections are not always under our own control. Have pity on + me, then, Lord Dunroe. Go to my father, and tell him that you will not be + a consenting party to my misery—and accessory to my death. Say what + is true; that as I neither do nor can love you, the honor of a gentleman, + and the spirit of a man, equally forbid you to act ungenerously to me and + dishonorably to yourself. What man, not base and mean, and sunk farther + down in degradation of spirit than contempt could reach him, would for a + moment think of marrying a woman who, like me, can neither love nor honor + him? Go, my lord; see my father; tell him you are a man—an Irish + gentleman—” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Miss Gourlay, I do not wish to be considered such.” + </p> + <p> + —“That justice, humanity, self-respect, and a regard for the good + opinion of the world, all combine to make you release me from this + engagement.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, Miss Gourlay, I have it not in my power, even if I were + willing, to release you from this engagement. I am pledged to your father, + and cannot, as a man of honor and a gentleman, recede from that pledge. + All these objections and difficulties only bring you exactly up to my + theory, or very near it. We shall marry upon very original principles; so + that altogether the whole affair is very gratifying to me. I had + expectations that there was a prior attachment; but that would be too much + to hope for. As it is, I am perfectly satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my lord, allow me to add to your satisfaction by assuring you that + my heart is wholly and unalterably in possession of another; that that + other knows it; and that I have avowed my love for him with the same truth + and candor with which I now say that I both loathe and despise you.” + </p> + <p> + “I perceive you are excited, Miss Gourlay; but, believe me, all this + sentimental affection for another will soon disappear after marriage, as + it always does; and your eyes will become open to a sense of your enviable + position. Yes, indeed, you will live to wonder at these freaks of a heated + imagination; and I have no doubt the day will come when you will throw + your arms about my neck, and exclaim, 'My dear Dunroe, or Cullamore (you + will then be my countess, I hope), what a true prophet you have been! And + what a proof it was of your good sense to overcome my early folly! I + really thought at the time that I was in love with another; but you knew + better. Shan't we spend the winter in England, my love? I am sick of this + dull, abominable country, where nobody that one can associate with is to + be met; and you mustn't forget the box at the Opera. Yes; we shall have an + odd scene or so occasionally of that sort of thing; and no doubt be as + happy as our neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy turned upon him one withering look, in which might be read hatred, + horror, contempt; after which she slightly inclined her head, and without + speaking, for she had now become incapable of it, withdrew to her own + apartment, in a state of feeling which the reader may easily imagine. + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said she to her maid, and her cheek, that had only a little + before been so pale, now glowed with indignation like fire as she spoke, + “Alice, I have degraded myself; I am sunk forever in my own opinion since + I saw that heartless wretch.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that, miss?” asked Alice; “such a thing can't be.” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied Lucy, “I was mean enough to throw myself on his very + compassion—on his honor—on his generosity—on his pride + as a man and a gentleman—but he has not a single virtue;” and she + then, with cheeks still glowing, related to her the principal part of + their conversation. + </p> + <p> + “And that was the reply he gave you, miss?” observed Alley; “in truth, it + was more like the answer of a sheriff's bailiff to some poor woman who had + her cattle distrained for rent, and wanted to get time to pay it.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” she exclaimed, “I hope in God I may retain my senses, or, rather, + let them depart from me, for then I shall not be conscious of what I do. + Matters are far worse than I had even imagined—desperate—full + of horror. This man is a fool; his intellect is beneath the very + exigencies of hypocrisy, which he would put on if he could. His infamy, + his profligacy, can proceed even from no perverted energy of character, + and must therefore be associated with contempt. There is a lively fatuity + about him that is uniformly a symptom of imbecility. Among women, at + least, it is so, and I have no doubt but it is the same with men. Alice, I + know what my fate will be. It is true, you may see me married to him; but + you will see me drop dead at the altar, or worse than that may happen. I + shall marry him; but to live his wife!—oh! to live the wife of that + man! the thing would be impossible; death in any shape a thousand times + sooner! Think, Alice, how you should feel if your husband were despised + and detested by the world; think of that, Alice. Still, there might be + consolation even there, for the world might be wrong; but think, Alice, if + he deserved that contempt and detestation—think of it; and that you + yourself knew he was entitled, to nothing else but that and infamy at its + hands! Oh, no!—not one spark of honor—not one trace of feeling—of + generosity—of delicacy—of truth—not one moral point to + redeem him from contempt. He may be a lord, Alice, but he is not a + gentleman. Hardened, vicious, and stupid, I can see he is, and altogether + incapable of comprehending what is due to the feelings of a lady, of a + woman, which he I outrages without even the consciousness of the offence. + But, Alice, oh Alice! when I think—when I compare him with—and + may Heaven forgive me for the comparison!—when I compare him with + the noble, the generous, the delicate, the true-hearted, and intellectual + gentleman who has won and retains, and ever will retain, my affections, I + am sick almost to death at the contrast. Satan, Alice, is a being whom we + detest and fear, but cannot despise. This mean profligate, however, is all + vice, and low vice; for even vice sometimes has its dignity. If you could + conceive Michael the Archangel resplendent with truth, brightness, and the + glory of his divine nature, and compare him with the meanest, basest, and + at the same time wickedest spirit that ever crawled in the depths of + perdition, then indeed you might form an opinion as to the relative + character of this Dunroe and my noble lover. And yet I cannot weep, Alice; + I cannot weep, for I feel that my brain is burning, and my heart scorched. + And now, for my only melancholy consolation!” + </p> + <p> + She then pulled from her bosom the portrait of her mother, by the + contemplation of which she felt the tumult of her heart gradually subside; + but, after having gazed at it for some time, she returned it to its place + next her heart; the consolation it had transiently afforded her passed + away, and the black and deadly gloom which had already withered her so + much came back once more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. The Priest goes into Corbet's House very like a Thief + </h2> + <h3> + —a Sederunt, with a Bright look up for Mr. Gray. + </h3> + <p> + It is unnecessary to say that the priest experienced slight regret at the + mistake which had been instrumental in bringing him into collision with a + man, who, although he could not afford them any trace of unfortunate + Fenton, yet enabled them more clearly to identify the baronet with his + fate. The stranger, besides, was satisfied from the evidence of the pound + note, and Trailcudgel's robbery, that his recent disappearance was also + owing to the same influence. Still, the evidence was far from being + complete, and they knew that if Fenton even were found, it would be + necessary to establish his identity as the heir of Sir Edward Gourlay. No + doubt they had made a step in advance, and, besides, in the right + direction; but much still remained to be done; the plot, in fact, must be + gradually, but clearly, and regularly developed; and in order to do so, + they felt that they ought, if the thing could be managed, to win over some + person who had been an agent in its execution. + </p> + <p> + From what Skipton had disclosed to Father M'Mahon, both that gentleman and + the stranger had little doubt that old Corbet could render them the + assistance required, if he could only be prevailed upon to speak. It was + evident from his own conversation that he not only hated but detested Sir + Thomas Gourlay; and yet it was equally clear that some secret influence + prevented him from admitting any knowledge or participation in the child's + disappearance. Notwithstanding the sharp caution of his manner, and his + disavowal of the very knowledge they were seeking, it was agreed upon that + Father M'Mahon should see him again, and ascertain whether or not he could + be induced in any way to aid their purpose. Nearly a week elapsed, + however, before the cunning old ferret could be come at. The truth is, he + had for many a long year been of opinion that the priest entertained a + suspicion of his having been in some way engaged, either directly or + indirectly, in the dark plots of the baronet, if not in the making away + with the child. On this account then, the old man never wished to come in + the priest's way whenever he could avoid it; and the priest himself had + often remarked that whenever he (old Corbet), who lived with the baronet + for a couple of years, after the child's disappearance, happened to see or + meet him in Ballytrain, he always made it a point to keep his distance. In + fact, the priest happened on one occasion, while making a visit to see + Quin, the monomaniac, and waiting in the doctor's room, to catch a glimpse + of Corbet passing through the hall, and on inquiring who he was from one + of the keepers, the fellow, after some hesitation, replied, that he did + not know. + </p> + <p> + By this time, however, the mysterious loss of the child had long passed + out of the public mind, and as the priest never paid another visit to the + asylum, he also had ceased to think of it. It is quite possible, indeed, + that the circumstance would never again have recurred to him had not the + stranger's inquiries upon this very point reminded him that Corbet was the + most likely person he knew to communicate information upon the subject. + The reader already knows with what success that application had been made. + </p> + <p> + Day after day had elapsed, and the priest, notwithstanding repeated + visits, could never find him at home. The simple-hearted man had whispered + to him in the watch-house, that he wished to speak to him upon that very + subject—a communication which filled the old fellow with alarm, and + the consequence was, that he came to the resolution of not seeing him at + all, if he could possibly avoid it. + </p> + <p> + One day, however, when better than a week had passed, Father M'Mahon + entered his shop, where he found a woman standing', as if she expected + some person to come in. His wife was weighing huckstery with her back to + the counter, so that she was not aware of his presence. Without speaking a + word he passed as quietly as possible into the little back parlor, and sat + down. After about fifteen minutes he heard a foot overhead passing + stealthily across the room, and coming to the lobby, where there was a + pause, as if the person were listening. At length the foot first came down + one stair very quietly, then another, afterwards a third, and again there + was a second pause, evidently to listen as before. The priest kept his + eyes steadily on the staircase, but was placed in such a position that he + could see without being visible himself. At length Corbet's long scraggy + neck was seen projecting like that of an ostrich across the banisters, + which commanded a view of the shop through the glass door. Seeing the + coast, as he thought, clear, he ventured to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Is he gone?” he asked, “for I'll take my oath I saw him come up the + street.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't trust your eyes much longer, I think,” replied his wife, “you + saw no such man; he wasn't here at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise I know it's about that poor boy he's coming; and sure, if I stir + in it, or betray the others, I can't keep the country; an', besides, I + will lose my pension.” + </p> + <p> + Having concluded these words he came down the stairs into the little + parlor we have mentioned, where he found Father M'Mahon sitting, his + benevolent features lit up with a good deal of mirth at the confusion of + Corbet, and the rueful aspect he exhibited on being caught in the trap so + ingeniously laid for him. + </p> + <p> + “Dunphy,” said the priest, for by this name he went in the city, “you are + my prisoner; but don't be afraid in the mane time—better my prisoner + than that of a worse man. And now, you thief o' the world, why did you + refuse to see me for the last week? Why keep me trotting day after day, + although you know I wanted to speak with you? What have you to say for + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Corbet, before replying, gave a sharp, short, vindictive glance at his + wife, whom he suspected strongly of having turned traitress, and played + into the hands of the enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Troth, your reverence, I was sorry to hear that you had come so often;” + and as he spoke, another glance toward the shop seemed to say, “You + deceitful old wretch, you have betrayed and played the devil with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't at all doubt it, Anthony,” replied the priest, “the truth being + that you were sorry I came at all. Come I am, however, and if I were to + wait for twelve months, I wouldn't go without seeing you. Call in Mrs. + Dunphy till I spake to her, and ask her how she is.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better come in, ma'am,” said the old fellow, in a tone of voice + that could not be misunderstood; “here's Father M'Mahon, who wants to + spake to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Arra, get out o' that!” she replied; “didn't I tell you that he didn't + show his round rosy face to-day yet; but I'll go bail he'll be here for + all that—sorra day he missed for the last week, and it's a scandal + for you to thrate him as you're doin'—sorra thing else.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop your goster,” said Dunphy, “and come in—isn't he inside here?” + </p> + <p> + The woman came to the door, and giving a hasty and incredulous look in, + started, exclaiming, “Why, then, may I never sin, but he is. Musha! Father + M'Mahon, how in the name o' goodness did you get inside at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Aisily enough,” he replied; “I only made myself invisible for a couple of + minutes, and passed in while you were weighing something for a woman in + the shop.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, then, one would think you must a' done so, sure enough, for the + sorrow a stim of you I seen anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “O, she's so attentive to her business, your reverence,” said Anthony, + with bitter irony, “that she sees nothing else. The lord mayor might drive + his coach in, and she wouldn't see him. There's an ould proverb goin' that + says there's none so blind as thim that won't see. Musha, sir, wasn't that + a disagreeable turn that happened you the other morning?” + </p> + <p> + “But it didn't last long, that was one comfort. The Lord save me from ever + seeing such another sight. I never thought our nature was capable of such + things; it is awful, even to think of it. Yes, terrible to reflect, that + there were unfortunate wretches there who will probably be hurried into + eternity without repenting for their transgressions, and making their + peace with God;” and as he concluded, Corbet found that the good pastor's + eye was seriously and solemnly fixed upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed—it's all true, your reverence—it'a all true,” he + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Anthony,” continued the priest, “I have something very important to + spake to you about; something that will be for your own benefit, not only + in this world, but in that awful one which is to come, and for which we + ought to prepare ourselves sincerely and earnestly. Have you any objection + that your wife should be present, or shall we go upstairs and talk it over + there?” + </p> + <p> + “I have every objection,” replied Corbet; “something she does know, but—” + </p> + <p> + “O thank goodness,” replied the old woman, very naturally offended at + being kept out of the secret, “I'm not in all your saicrets, nor I don't + wish to know them, I'm sure. I believe you find some of them a heavy + burden; at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then,” said the priest, “put on your hat and take a walk with me as + far as the Brazen Head inn, where I'm stopping. We can have a private room + there, where there will be no one to interrupt us.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it be the same thing to you, sir, if I'd call on you there about + this time to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “What objection have you to come now?” asked the priest. “Never put off + till tomorrow what can be done to-day, is a good old proverb, and applies + to things of weightier importance than belong to this world.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, it's a little business of a very particular nature that I have + to attend to; and yet I don't know,” he added, “maybe I'll be a betther + match for them afther seeing you. In the mane time,” he proceeded, + addressing his wife, “if they should come here to look for me, don't say + where I'm gone, nor, above all things, who I'm with. Mark that now; and + tell Charley, or Ginty, whichever o' them comes, that it must be put off + till to-morrow—do you mind, now?” + </p> + <p> + She merely nodded her head, by way of attention. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” he replied, with a sardonic grin, “you'll be alive, as you were a + while ago, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + They then proceeded on their way to the Brazen Head, which they reached + without any conversation worth recording. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Anthony,” began the priest, after they had seated themselves + comfortably in a private room, “will you answer me truly why you refused + seeing me? why you hid or absconded whenever I went to your house for the + last week?” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise I did not wish to see you, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's the truth,” said the priest, “and I know it. But why did you + not wish to see me?” he inquired; “you must have had some reason for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I had my suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + “You had, Anthony; and you've had the same suspicions this many a long + year—ever since the day I saw you pass through the hall in the + private mad-house in—.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that the time Mr. Quin was there? asked Anthony, unconsciously + committing himself from the very apprehension of doing so by giving a + direct answer to the question. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ha! Anthony, then you knew Mr. Quin was there. That will do; but + there's not the slightest use in beating about the bush any longer. You + have within the last half-hour let your secret out, within my own ears, + and before my own eyes. And so you have a pension from the Black Baronet; + and you, an old man, and I fear a guilty one, are receiving the wages of + iniquity and corruption from that man—from the man that first + brought shame and everlasting disgrace, and guilt and madness into and + upon your family and name—a name that had been without a stain + before. Yes; you have sold yourself as a slave—a bond-slave—have + become the creature and instrument of his vices—the clay in his + hands that he can mould as he pleases, and that he will crush and trample + on, and shiver to pieces, the moment his cruel, unjust, and diabolical + purposes are served.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony's face was a study, but a fearful study, whilst the priest spoke. + As the reverend gentleman went on, it darkened into the expression of + perfect torture; he gasped and started as if every word uttered had given + him a mortal stab; his keen old eye nickered with scintillations of + unnatural and turbid fire, until the rebuke was ended. + </p> + <p> + The priest had observed this, and naturally imputed the feeling to an + impression of remorse, not, it is true, unmingled with indignation. We may + imagine his surprise, therefore, on seeing that face suddenly change into + one of the wildest and most malignant delight. A series of dry, husky + hiccoughs, or what is termed the black laugh, rapidly repeated, proceeded + from between his thin jaws, and his eyes now blazed with an expression of + such fiery and triumphant vengeance, that the other felt as if some + fiendish incarnation of malignity, and not a man, sat before him. + </p> + <p> + “Crush me!” he exclaimed, “crush me, indeed! Wait a little. What have I + been doin' all this time? I tell you that I have been every day for this + many a long year windin' myself like a serpent about him, till I get him + fairly in my power; and when I do—then for one sharp, deadly sting + into his heart:—ay, and, like the serpent, it's in my tongue that + sting lies—from that tongue the poison must come that will give me + the revenge that I've been long waitin' for.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak,” replied the priest, “and, indeed, you look more like an evil + spirit than a man, Anthony. This language is disgraceful and unchristian, + and such as no human being should utter. How can you think of death with + such principles in your heart?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you how I think on death: I'm afeared of it when I think of + that poor, heartbroken woman, Lady Gourlay; but when I think of him—of + him—I do hope and expect that my last thought in this world will be + the delightful one that I've had my revenge on him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you would risk the misery of another world for the gratification of + one evil passion in this! Oh, God help you, and forgive you, and turn your + heart!” + </p> + <p> + “God help me, and forgive me, and turn my heart! but not so far as he is + consarned. I neither wish it, nor pray for it, and what's more, if you + were fifty priests, I never will. Let us drop this subject, then, for so + long as we talk of him, I feel as if the blood in my ould veins was all + turned into fire.” + </p> + <p> + The priest saw and felt that this was true, and resolved to be guided by + the hint he had unconsciously received. To remonstrate with him upon + Christian principles, in that mood of mind, would, he knew, be to no + purpose. If there were an assailable point about him, he concluded, from + his own words, that it was in connection with the sufferings of Lady + Gourlay, and the fate of her child. On this point, therefore, he resolved + to sound him, and ascertain, without, if possible, alarming him, how far + he would go on—whether he felt disposed to advance at all, or not. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the priest, “since you are resolved upon an act of vengeance—against + which, as a Christian priest and a Christian man, I doubly protest—I + think it only right that you should perform an act of justice also. You + know it is wrong to confound the innocent with the guilty. There is Lady + Gourlay, with the arrow of grief, and probably despair, rankling in her + heart for years. Now, you could restore that woman to happiness—you + could restore her lost child to happiness, and bid the widowed mother's + heart leap for joy.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't for that I'd do it, or it would, maybe, be done long ago; but + I'm not sayin' I know where her son is. Do you think now, if I did, that + it wouldn't gratify my heart to pull down that black villain—to + tumble him down in the eyes of all the world with disgrace and shame, from + the height he's sittin' on, and make him a world's wondher of villany and + wickedness?” + </p> + <p> + “I know very well,” replied the priest, who, not wishing to use an + unchristian argument, thought it still too good to be altogether left out, + “I know very well that you cannot restore Lady Gourlay's son, without + punishing the baronet at the same time. If you be guided by me, however, + you will think only of what is due to the injured lady herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think, now,” persisted Corbet, not satisfied with the priest's + answer, and following up his interrogatory, “do you think, I say, that I + wouldn't 'a' dragged him down like a dog in the kennel, long ago, if I + knew where his brother's son was.” + </p> + <p> + “From your hatred to Sir Thomas Gourlay,” replied the other, “I think it + likely you would have tumbled him long since if you could.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” exclaimed Corbet, with another sardonic and derisive grin, “that's + a proof of how little you know of a man's heart. Do you forget what I said + awhile ago about the black villain—that I have been windin' myself + about him for years, until I get him fairly into my power? When that time + comes, you'll see what I'll do.” + </p> + <p> + “But will that time soon come?” asked the other. “Recollect that you are + now an old man, and that old age is not the time to nourish projects of + vengeance. Death may seize you—may take you at a short notice—so + that it is possible you may never live to execute your devilish purpose on + the one hand, nor the act of justice toward Lady Gourlay on the other. + Will that time soon come, I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “So far I'll answer you. It'll take a month or two—not more. I have + good authority for what I'm sayin'.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will you do then?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you that,” he replied; and rising up, he shut his two hands, + turning in his thumbs, and stretching his arms down along his body on each + side, he stooped down, and looking directly and fully into the priest's + eyes, he replied, “I'll give him back his son.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut!” returned the clergyman, whose honest heart, and sympathies were all + with the widow and her sorrows; “I was thinking of Lady Gourlay's son. In + the mane time, that's a queer way of punishing the baronet. You'll give + him back his son?—pooh!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” replied Corbet, “that's the way I'll have my revenge; and maybe + it'll be a greater one than you think. That's all.” + </p> + <p> + This was accompanied by a sneer and a chuckle, which the ambiguous old + sinner could not for the blood of him suppress. “And now,” he added, “I + must be off.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Father M'Mahon, rising up and traversing the room with + considerable heat, “you have been tampering with the confidence I was + disposed to place in you. Whatever dark game you are playing, or have been + playing, I know not; but this I can assure you, that Lady Gourlay's + friends know more of your secrets than you suspect. I believe you to be + nothing more nor less than a hardened old villain, whose heart is sordid, + and base, and cruel—corrupted, I fear, beyond all hope of + redemption. You have been playing with me, sir—sneering at me in + your sleeve, during this whole dialogue. This was a false move, however, + on your part, and you will find it so. I am not a man to be either played + with or sneered at by such a snake-like and diabolical old scoundrel as + you are. Listen, now, to me. You think your secret is safe; you think you + are beyond the reach of the law; you think we know nothing of your former + movements under the guidance and in personal company with the Black + Baronet. Pray, did you think it impossible that there was above you a God + of justice, and of vengeance, too, whose providential disclosures are + sufficient to bring your villany to light? Anthony Corbet, be warned in + time. Let your disclosures be voluntary, and they will be received with + gratitude, with deep thanks, with ample rewards; refuse to make them, + endeavor still further to veil the crimes to which I allude, and sustain + this flagitious compact, and we shall drag them up your throat, and after + forcing you to disgorge them, we shall send you, in your wicked and + impenitent old age, where the clank of the felon's chain will be the only + music in your ears, and that chain itself the only garter that will ever + keep up your Connemaras. Now begone, and lay to heart what I've said to + you. It wasn't my intention to have let you go without a bit of something + to eat, and a glass of something to wash it down afterwards; but you may + travel now; nothing stronger than pure air will cross your lips in this + house, unless at your own cost.” + </p> + <p> + The old fellow seemed to hesitate, as if struck by some observation + contained in the priest's lecture. + </p> + <p> + “When do you lave town, sir?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever it's my convanience,” replied the other; “that's none of your + affair. I'll go immediately and see Skipton.” + </p> + <p> + The priest observed that honest Anthony looked still graver at the mention + of this name. “If you don't go,” he added, “until a couple of days hence, + I'd like to see you again, about this hour, the day afther tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether I'll be here, or whether I won't is more than I know. I may be + brought to judgment before then, and so may you. You may come then, or you + may stay away, just as you like. If you come, perhaps I'll see you, and + perhaps I won't. So now good-by! Thank goodness we are not depending on + you!” + </p> + <p> + Anthony then slunk out of the room with a good deal of hesitation in his + manner, and on leaving the hall-door he paused for a moment, and seemed + disposed to return. At length he decided, and after lingering awhile, took + his way toward Constitution Hill. + </p> + <p> + This interview with the priest disturbed Corbet very much. His + selfishness, joined to great caution and timidity of character, rendered + him a very difficult subject for any man to wield according to his + purposes. There could be no doubt that he entertained feelings of the most + diabolical resentment and vengeance against the baronet, and yet it was + impossible to get out of him the means by which he proposed to visit them + upon him. On leaving Father M'Mahon, therefore, he experienced a state of + alternation between a resolution to make disclosures and a determination + to be silent and work out his own plans. He also feared death, it is true: + but this was only when those rare visitations of conscience occurred that + were awakened by superstition, instead of an enlightened and Christian + sense of religion. This latter was a word he did not understand, or rather + one for which he mistook superstition itself. Be this as it may, he felt + uneasy, anxious, and irresolute, wavering between the right and the wrong, + afraid to take his stand by either, and wishing, if he could, to escape + the consequences of both. Other plans, however, were ripening as well as + his, under the management of those who were deterred by none of his + cowardice or irresolution. The consideration of this brings us to a family + discussion; which it becomes our duty to detail before we proceed any + further in our narrative. + </p> + <p> + On the following day, then, nearly the same party of which we have given + an account in an early portion of this work, met in the same eating-house + we have already described; the only difference being that instead of + O'Donegan, the classical teacher, old Corbet himself was present. The man + called Thomas Corbet, the eldest son Anthony, Ginty Cooper the + fortune-teller, Ambrose Gray, and Anthony himself, composed this + interesting sederunt. The others had been assembled for some time before + the arrival of Anthony, who consequently had not an opportunity of hearing + the following brief dialogue. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid of my father,” observed Thomas; “he's as deep as a draw-well, + and it's impossible to know what he's at. How are we to manage him at + all?” + </p> + <p> + “By following his advice, I think,” said Ginty. “It's time, I'm sure, to + get this boy into his rights.” + </p> + <p> + “I was very well disposed to help you in that,” replied her brother; “but + of late he has led such a life, that I fear if he comes into the property, + he'll do either us or himself little credit; and what is still worse, will + he have sense to keep his own secret? My father says his brother, the + legitimate son, is dead; that he died of scarlet-fever many years ago in + the country—-and I think myself, by the way, that he looks, whenever + he says it, as if he himself had furnished the boy with the fever. That, + however, is not our business. If I had been at Red Hall, instead of + keeping the house and place in town, it's a short time the other—or + Fenton as he calls himself—would be at large. He's now undher a man + that will take care of him. But indeed it's an easy task. He'll never see + his mother's face again, as I well know. Scarman has him, and I give the + poor devil about three months to live. He doesn't allow him half food, + but, on the other hand, he supplies him with more whiskey than he can + drink; and this by the baronet's own written orders. As for you, Mr. Gray, + for we may as well call you so yet awhile, your conduct of late has been + disgraceful.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant it,” replied Mr. Gray, who was now sober; “but the truth is, I + really looked, after some consideration, upon the whole plan as quite + impracticable. As the real heir, however, is dead—” + </p> + <p> + “Not the real heir, Amby, if you please. He, poor fellow, is in custody + that he will never escape from again. Upon my soul, I often pitied him.” + </p> + <p> + “How full of compassion you are!” replied his sister. + </p> + <p> + “I have very little for the baronet, however,” he replied; “and I hope he + will never die till I scald the soul in his body. Excuse me, Amby. You + know all the circumstances of the family, and, of course, that you are the + child of guilt and shame.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, I'm come on the wrong side as to birth, I admit; but if I + clutch the property and title, I'll thank heaven every day I live for my + mother's frailty.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not frailty, you unfeeling boy,” replied Ginty, “so much as my + father's credulity and ambition. I was once said to be beautiful, and he, + having taken it into his head that this man, when young, might love me, + went to the expense of having me well educated. He then threw me + perpetually into his society; but I was young and artless at the time, and + believed his solemn oaths and promises of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “And the greater villain he,” observed her brother; “for I myself did not + think there could be danger in your intimacy, because you and he were + foster-children; and, except in his case, I never knew another throughout + the length and breadth of the country, where the obligation of that tie + was forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed Ambrose, “we must only make the best of our position. If + I succeed, you shall, according to our written agreement, be all provided + for. Not that I would feel very strongly disposed to do much for that + enigmatical old grandfather of mine. The vile old ferret saw me in the + lock-up the other morning, and refused to bail me out; ay, and threatened + me besides.” + </p> + <p> + “He did right,” replied his uncle; “and if you're caught there again, I'll + not only never bail you out, but wash my hands of the whole affair. So now + be warned, and let it be for your good. Listen, then; for the case in + which you stand is this: there is Miss Gourlay and Dunroe going to be + married after all; for she has returned to her father, and consented to + marry the young lord. The baronet, too, is ill, and I don't think will + live long. He is burned out like a lime-kiln; for, indeed, like that, his + whole life has been nothing but smoke and fire. Very well; now pay + attention. If we wait until these marriage articles are drawn up, the + appearance or the discovery of this heir here will create great confusion; + and you may take my word that every opposition will be given, and every + inquiry made by Dunroe, who, as there seems to be no heir, will get the + property; for it goes, in that case, with Miss Gourlay. Every knot is more + easily tied than untied. Let us produce the heir, then, before the + property's disposed of, and then we won't have to untie the knot—to + invalidate the marriage articles. So far, so good—that's our plan. + But again, there's the baronet ill; should he die before we establish this + youth's rights, think of our difficulty. And, thirdly, he's beginning to + suspect our integrity, as he is pleased to call it. That strange + gentleman, Ginty, has mentioned circumstances to him that he says could + come only from my father or myself, or you.” + </p> + <p> + “Proceed,” replied his sister, “proceed; I may look forward to the + fulfilment of these plans; but I will never live to see it.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly are much changed for the worse,” replied her brother, + “especially since your reason has been restored to you. In the meantime, + listen. The baronet is now ill, although Gibson says there's no danger of + him; he's easier in his mind, however, in consequence of this marriage, + that he has, for life or death, set his heart on; and altogether this is + the best time to put this vagabond's pretensions forward.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, uncle,” replied Ambrose, with a clouded brow. “In six months + hence, perhaps, I'll be no vagabond.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, in sixty years hence you will; and indeed, I fear, to tell you the + truth, that you'll never be anything else. That, however, is not the + question now. We want to know what my father may say—whether he will + agree with us, or whether he can or will give us any better advice. There + is one thing, at least, we ought to respect him for; and that is, that he + gave all his family a good education, although he had but little of that + commodity himself, poor man.” + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely concluded, when old Anthony made his appearance, with that + mystical expression on his face, half sneer, half gloom, which would lead + one to conclude that his heart was divided between remorse and vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “you're at work, I see—honestly employed, of + course. Ginty, how long is Mr. Ambrose here dead now?” + </p> + <p> + “He died,” replied her brother, “soon after the intention of changing the + children took place. You took the hint, father, from the worthy baronet + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I did; and I wish I had not. You died, my good young fellow, of + scarlet-fever—let me see—but divil a much matther it is when + you died; it's little good you'll come to, barrin' you change your heart. + They say, indeed, the divil's children have the divil's luck; but I say, + the divil's children have the divil's face, too; for sure he's as like the + black fiend his father as one egg is to another.” + </p> + <p> + “And that will strengthen the claim,” replied the young man, with a grin. + “I don't look too old, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “There's only two years' difference between you and the boy, your brother, + that's dead,” said his mother. “But I wish we were well through with this. + My past life seems to me like a dream. My contemplated revenge upon that + bad man, and my ambition for this boy, are the only two principles that + now sustain me. What a degraded life has Thomas Gourlay caused me to lead! + But I really think that I saw into futurity; nay, I am certain of it; + otherwise, what put hundreds of predictions into my lips, that were + verified by the event?” + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary expression of wildness in her eye as she spoke, + which the others observed with pain. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Ginty,” said her brother, “keep yourself steady now, at all events; + be cool and firm, till we punish this man. If you want to know why you + foretold so much, I'll tell you. It was because you could put two and two + together.” + </p> + <p> + “My whole life has been a blank,” she proceeded, “an empty dream—a + dead, dull level; insanity, vengeance, ambition, all jostling and crossing + each other in my unhappy mind; not a serious or reasonable duty of life + discharged; no claim on society—no station in the work of life—an + impostor to the world, and a dupe to myself; but it was he did it. Go on; + form your plans—make them firm and sure; for, by Him who withdrew + the light of reason from my spirit—by Him from whom it came, I will + have vengeance. Father, I know you well, and I am your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “You know me well, do you?” he replied, with his usual grin. “Maybe you + do, and maybe you don't; but let us proceed. The baronet's son's dead, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “But what makes you look as you do, father, when you say so? Your face + seems to contradict your words. You know you have told us for years that + he's dead.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm a liar, am I?” he replied, looking at him with a peculiar smile. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't say so; certainly not. But, still, you squeeze your face up + in such a way that you don't seem to believe it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” continued the old man, “this is all useless. What do you + intend to do? How do you intend to proceed?” + </p> + <p> + “We sent for you to advise us in that,” replied his son. “You are the + oldest and the wisest here, and of course ought to possess the soundest + judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, my advice to you is, to go about your business; that is, to + do any lawful business that you have to do, and not to bring yourselves to + disgrace by puttin' forrid this drunken profligate, who will pitch us all + to the devil when he gets himself safe, and tread in his black father's + steps afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “And you must assist us, father,” said Ginty, rising up, and pacing to and + fro the room in a state of great agitation. “You, the first cause, the + original author of my shame; you, to whose iniquitous avarice and vulgar + ambition I fell a sacrifice, as much as I did to the profligacy and + villany of Thomas Gourlay. But I care not—I have my ambition; it is + a mother's, and more natural on that account. I have also my vengeance to + gratify; for, father, we are your children, and vengeance is the family + principle. Father, you must assist us—you must join us—you + must lend us your perjury—supply us with false oaths, with deceitful + accounts, with all that is necessary; for, father, it is to work out your + own principles—that I may be able to die smiling—smiling that + I have overreached and punished him at last. That, you know, will be a + receipt in full for my shame and madness. Now, I say, father, you must do + this, or I will kneel down and curse you.” + </p> + <p> + The old man, as she proceeded, kept his eyes fixed upon her, first with a + look of indifference; this, however, became agreeable and complacent; + gradually his eye kindled as he caught her spirit, and when she had + concluded, he ground his black old stumps of teeth together with a + vindictive energy that was revolting, or at least would have been so to + any others unless those that were present. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ginty,” he replied, “I have turned it over in my mind, and as + helpin' you now will be givin' the black fellow an additional stab, I'll + do it. Yes, my lad,” he added, grinning rather maliciously, by the way, at + the object of his promised support, “I will make a present of you to your + father; and a thankful man he ought to be to have the like of you. I was + sometimes for you, and sometimes against you; but, at all events, the old + fellow must have you—for the present at least.” + </p> + <p> + This was accompanied by another grin, which was, as usual, perfectly + inexplicable to the others. But as he had expressed his assent and + promised his assistance, they were glad to accept it on his own terms and + in his own way. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” he proceeded, “now that we've made up our minds to go + through with it, I'll think over what's to be done—what's the best + steps to take, and the best time and place to break it to him. This will + require some time to think of it, and to put things together properly; so + let us have a drop of something to drink, and we can meet again in few + days.” + </p> + <p> + Having partaken of the refreshment which was ordered in, they soon + afterwards separated until another opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Ambrose Gray, with whose real name the reader is already acquainted, took + but little part, as may have been perceived, in the discussion of a + project which so deeply affected his own interests. When it was first + discovered to him by his mother and uncle, he was much struck even at the + bare probability of such an event. Subsequent reflection, however, induced + him to look upon the whole scheme as an empty bubble, that could not bear + the touch of a finger without melting into air. It was true he was + naturally cunning, but then he was also naturally profligate and vicious; + and although not without intellect, yet was he deficient in self-command + to restrain himself when necessary. Altogether, his character was bad, and + scarcely presented to any one a favorable aspect. When affected with + liquor he was at once quarrelsome and cowardly—always the first to + provoke a fight, and the first, also, to sneak out of it. + </p> + <p> + Soon after the disappearance of Sir Edward Gourlay's heir, the notion of + removing the baronet's own son occurred, not to his mother, nor to her + brother, but to old Corbet, who desired his son Charles, then a young man, + and the baronet's foster-brother, as a preparatory step to his ultimate + designs, to inform him that his illegitimate son was dead. Sir Thomas at + this time had not assumed the title, nor taken possession of the immense + estates. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gourlay,” said Charles, “that child is dead; I was desired to tell + you so by my father, who doesn't wish to speak to you himself upon the + subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Mr. Gourlay, “what affair is that of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said the other, “as the unfortunate mother is insane, and without + means of providing decently for its burial, he thinks it only reasonable + that you should furnish money for that purpose—he, I know, won't.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by providing decently?” asked Mr. Gourlay. “What stuff + that is!—throw the brat into a shell, and bury it. I am cursedly + glad it's gone. There's half-a-crown, and pitch it into the nearest + kennel. Why the deuce do you come to me with such a piece of information?” + </p> + <p> + Charles Corbet, being his father's son, looked at him, and we need not at + any length describe the nature of that look nor the feeling it conveyed. + This passed, but was not forgotten; and on being detailed by Charles + Corbet to his father, the latter replied, + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the villain—that's his feelin', is it! Well, never mind, I'll + punish him one day.” + </p> + <p> + Some months after this he came into Mr. Gourlay's study, with a very + solemn and anxious face, and said, + </p> + <p> + “I have something to say to you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Anthony, what is it you have to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I'm wrong, sir, and I know I oughtn't to alarm you or disturb your + mind; but still I think I ought to put you on your guard.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound your caution, sir; can't you come out with whatever you have to + say at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Would it be possible, sir, that there could be any danger of the child + bein' taken away like the other—like your brother's?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—why do you ask such a question?” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise, sir, I observed for the last few days a couple of strange men + peepin' and pimpin' about the place, and wherever the child went they kept + dodgin' afther him.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should any one think of taking him away?” + </p> + <p> + “Hem!—well, I don't know, sir; but you know that the heir was taken + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Anthony, be quiet—walls have ears; go on.” + </p> + <p> + “What 'ud you think if there was sich a thing as revinge in the world? I'm + not suspectin' any one, but at the same time, a woman's revinge is the + worst and deepest of all revinges. You know very well that she suspects + you—and, indeed, so does the world.” + </p> + <p> + “But very wrongly, you know, Anthony,” replied the baronet, with a smile + dark as murder. + </p> + <p> + “Why, ay, to be sure,” replied the instrument, squirting the tobacco + spittle into the fire, and turning on him a grin that might be considered + a suitable commentary upon the smile of his employer. + </p> + <p> + “But,” added Mr. Gourlay, “what if it should be the father, instead of the + son, they want?” + </p> + <p> + “But why would they be dodgin' about the child, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “True; it is odd enough. Well, I shall give orders to have him well + watched.” + </p> + <p> + “And, with the help o' God, I'll put a mark upon him that'll make him be + known, at any rate, through all changes, barrin' they should take his + life.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean by a mark!” asked the other. + </p> + <p> + “I learnt it in the army, sir, when I was with Sir Edward. It's done by + gunpowder. It can do no harm, and will at any time durin' his life make + him known among millions. It can do no harm, at any rate, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Anthony—very well,” replied Mr. Gourlay; “mark him as + you like, and when it is done, let me see it.” + </p> + <p> + In about a fortnight afterwards, old Corbet brought his son to him, and + raising his left arm, showed him the child's initials distinctly marked on + the under part of it, together with a cross and the family crest; all so + plainly and neatly executed, that the father was surprised at it. + </p> + <p> + Nothing, however, happened at that time; vigilance began to relax as + suspicion diminished, until one morning, about eight months afterwards, it + was found that the child had disappeared. It is unnecessary to add, that + every possible step was taken to discover him. Searches were made, the hue + and cry was up, immense rewards were offered; but all in vain. From that + day forth neither trace nor tidings of him could be found, and in the + course of time he was given up, like the heir of the property, altogether + for lost. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. Discovery of the Baronet's Son + </h2> + <h3> + —Who, however, is Shelved for a Time. + </h3> + <p> + Lord Dunroe, as had already been agreed upon between him and her father, + went directly to that worthy gentleman, that he might make a faithful + report of the interview. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dunroe,” said the baronet, “what's the news? How did it go off?” + </p> + <p> + “Just as we expected,” replied the other. “Vapors, entreaties, and + indignation. I give you my honor, she asked me to become her advocate with + you, in order to get released from the engagement. That was rather cool, + wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the truth is, I conducted the affair altogether on a new principle. + I maintained that love should not be a necessary element in marriage; + vindicated the rights of honest indifference, and said that it was against + my system to marry any woman who was attached to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I remember preaching some such doctrine, in a bantering way, to her + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Guided by this theory, I met her at every turn; but, nevertheless, there + was a good deal of animated expostulation, tears, solicitations, and all + that.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear you have mismanaged the matter some way; if you have followed my + advice, and done it with an appearance of common sense, so much the + better. This would have required much tact, for Lucy is a girl very + difficult to be imposed upon by appearances. I am the only person who can + do so, but! that is because I approach her aided by my knowledge of her + filial affection. As it is, however, these things are quite common. My own + wife felt much the same way with myself, and yet we lived as happily as + most people. Every young baggage must have her scenes and her sacrifices. + Ah! what a knack they have got at magnifying everything! How do you do, my + Lady Dunroe? half a dozen times repeated, however, will awaken her vanity, + and banish all this girlish rodomontade.” + </p> + <p> + “'Room for the Countess of Cullamore,' will soon follow,” replied his + lordship, laughing, “and that will be still better. The old peer, as + Norton and I call him, is near the end of his journey, and will make his + parting bow to us some of these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she actually consent, though?” asked the father, somewhat doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Positively, Sir Thomas; make your mind easy upon that point. To be sure, + there were protestations and entreaties, and God knows what; but still the + consent was given.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, exactly,” replied her father; “I knew it would be so. Well, now, + let us not lose much time about it. I told those lawyers to wait a little + for further instructions, because I was anxious to hear how this interview + would end, feeling some apprehension that she might relapse into + obstinacy; but now that she has consented, we shall go on. They may meet + to-morrow, and get the necessary writings drawn up; and then for the + wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “Will not my father's illness stand a little in the way?” asked Dunroe. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit; why should it? But he really is not ill, only getting feeble + and obstinate. The man is in his dotage. I saw him yesterday, and he + refused, most perversely, to sanction the marriage until some facts shall + come to his knowledge, of which he is not quite certain at present. I told + him the young people would not wait; and he replied, that if I give you my + daughter now, I shall do so at my peril; and that I may consider myself + forewarned. I know he is thinking of your peccadilloes, my lord, for he + nearly told me as much before. I think, indeed, he is certainly doting, + otherwise there is no understanding him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are light, Sir Thomas; the fuss he makes about morality and religion + is a proof that he is. In the meantime, I agree with you that there is + little time to be lost. The lawyers must set to work immediately; and the + sooner the better, for I am naturally impatient.” + </p> + <p> + They then shook hands very cordially, and Dunroe took his leave. + </p> + <p> + The reader may have observed that in this conversation the latter reduced + his account of the interview to mere generalities, a mode of reporting it + which was agreeable to both, as it spared each of them some feeling. + Dunroe, for instance, never mentioned a syllable of Lucy's having frankly + avowed her passion for another; neither did Sir Thomas make the slightest + allusion to the settled disinclination to marry him which he knew she all + along felt. Indifferent, however, as Dunroe naturally was to high-minded + feeling or principle, he could not summon courage to dwell upon this + attachment of Lucy to another. A consciousness of his utter meanness and + degradation of spirit in consenting to marry any woman under such + circumstances, filled him with shame even to glance at it. He feared, + besides, that if her knavish father had heard it, he would at once have + attributed his conduct to its proper motives—that is to say, an + eagerness to get into the possession and enjoyment of the large fortune to + which she was entitled. He himself, in his conversations with the baronet, + never alluded to the subject of dowry, but placed his anxiety for the + match altogether to the account of love. So far, then, each was acting a + fraudulent part toward the other. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, about the hour of eleven o'clock, Thomas Corbet—foster-brother + to the baronet, though a much younger man—sent word that he wished + to see him on particular business. This was quite sufficient; for, as + Corbet was known to be more deeply in his confidence than any other man + living, he was instantly admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Corbet,” said his master, “I hope there is nothing wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas,” replied the other, “you have a right to be a happy and a + thankful man this morning; and although I cannot mention the joyful + intelligence with which I am commissioned, without grief and shame for the + conduct of a near relation of my own, yet I feel this to be the happiest + day of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce!” exclaimed the baronet, starting to his feet—“how + is this? What is the intelligence?” + </p> + <p> + “Rejoice, Sir Thomas—rejoice and be thankful; but, in the meantime, + pray sit down, if you please, and don't be too much agitated. I know how + evil news, or anything that goes in opposition to your will, affects you: + the two escapes, for instance, of that boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! I understand you now,” exclaimed the baronet, whilst the very eyes + danced in his head with a savage delight that was frightful, and, for the + sake of human nature, painful to look upon, “I understand you now, Corbet—he + is dead! eh? Is it not so? Yes, yes—it is—it is true. Well, + you shall have a present of one hundred pounds for the intelligence. You + shall, and that in the course of five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas,” replied Corbet, calmly, “have patience; the person, Fenton, + you speak about, is still alive; but to all intents and purposes, dead to + you and for you. This, however, is another and a far different affair. + Your son has been found!” + </p> + <p> + The baronet's brow fell: he looked grave, and more like a man disappointed + than anything else. In fact, the feeling associated with the recovery of + his son was not strong enough to balance or counteract that which he + experienced in connection with the hoped-for death of the other. He + recovered himself, however, and exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “Found! Tom found!—little Tom found! My God! When—where—how?” + </p> + <p> + “Have the goodness to sit down, sir,” replied Corbet, “and I will tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet took a seat, but the feeling of disappointment, although + checked by the intelligence of his son, was not extinguished, and could + still be read in his countenance. He turned his eyes upon Corbet and said, + </p> + <p> + “Well, Corbet, go on; he is not dead, though?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; thank God, he is not.” + </p> + <p> + “Who—who—are you speaking of? Oh, I forgot—proceed. Yes, + Corbet, you are right; I am very much disturbed. Well, speak about my son. + Where is he? In what condition of life? Is he a gentleman—a beggar—a + profligate—what?” + </p> + <p> + “You remember, Sir Thomas—hem—you remember that unfortunate + affair with my sister?” + </p> + <p> + Corbet's face became deadly pale as he spoke, and his voice grew, by + degrees, hollow and husky; yet he was both calm and cool, as far, at + least, as human observation could form a conjecture. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do; it was a painful business; but the girl was a fool for + losing her senses.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear me, Sir Thomas. When her child died, you may remember my father sent + me to you, as its parent, for the means of giving it decent interment. You + cannot forget your words to me on that occasion. I confess I felt them + myself as very offensive. What, then, must his mother have suffered—wild, + unsettled, and laboring, as she was, under a desperate sense of the injury + she had experienced at your hands?” + </p> + <p> + “But why have mentioned it to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I confess I was wrong there; but I did so to make her feel more severely + the consequences of her own conduct. I did it more in anger to her than to + you. My words, however, instead of producing violence or outrage on my + sister, seemed to make her settle down into a fearful silence, which none + of us could get her out of for several days. It struck us that her + unfortunate malady had taken a new turn, and so it did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Well? Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Soon after that, your son, Master Thomas, disappeared. You may understand + me now: it was she who took him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! the vindictive vagabond!” exclaimed the baronet. + </p> + <p> + “Have patience, Sir Thomas. She took your little boy with no kind + intention toward him: her object was to leave you without a son; her + object, in fact, was, at first, to murder him, in consequence of your + want, as she thought, of all paternal affection for him she had just lost, + and, in short, of your whole conduct toward her. The mother's instinct, + however, proved stronger than her revenge. She could not take away the + child's life for the thought of her own; but she privately placed him with + an uncle of ours, a classical hedge-school-master, in a remote part of the + kingdom, with whom he lived under a feigned name, and from whom he + received a good education.” + </p> + <p> + “But where is he now?” asked the other. “How does he live? Why not bring + him here?” + </p> + <p> + “He must first wait your pleasure, you know, Sir Thomas. He's in town, and + has been in town for some time, a student in college.” + </p> + <p> + “That's very good, indeed; we must have him out of college, though. Poor + Lucy will go distracted with joy, to know that she has now a brother. + Bring him here, Corbet; but stop, stay—his appearance now—let + me see—caution, Corbet—caution. We must look before us. Miss + Gourlay, you know, is about to be married. Dunroe, I understand; he cares + little or nothing personally about the girl—it is her fortune, but + principally her inheritance, he loves. It is true, he doesn't think that I + even suspect this, much less feel certain of it. How does the young fellow + look, though? Good looking—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Exceedingly like his father, sir; as you will admit on seeing him.” + </p> + <p> + “He must have changed considerably, then; for I remember he was supposed + to bear a nearer resemblance to his mother and her family, the only thing + which took him down a little in my affection. But hold; hang it, I am + disturbed more than I have been this long time. What was I speaking of, + Corbet? I forgot—by the way, I hope this is not a bad sign of my + health.” + </p> + <p> + “You were talking of Dunroe, sir, and Miss Gourlay's marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, so I was. Well—yes—here it is, Corbet—is it + not possible that the appearance of this young man at this particular + crisis—stepping in, as he does, between Dunroe and the very property + his heart is set upon—might knock the thing to pieces? and there is + all that I have had my heart set upon for years—that grand project + of ambition for my daughter—gone to the winds, and she must put up + with some rascally commoner, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly possible, sir; and, besides, every one knows that Lord + Dunroe is needy, and wants money at present very much.” + </p> + <p> + “In any event, Corbet, it is our best policy to keep this discovery a + profound secret till after the marriage, when it can't affect Miss + Gourlay, or Lady Dunroe as she will then be.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I agree with you, Sir Thomas; but, in the meantime, you had + better see your son; he is impatient to come to you and his sister. It was + only last night that the secret of his birth was made known to him.” + </p> + <p> + “By what name does he go?” + </p> + <p> + “By the name of Ambrose Gray, sir; but I cannot tell you why my sister + gave him such a name, nor where she got it. She was at the time very + unsettled. Of late her reason has returned to her very much, thank God, + although she has still touches of her unfortunate complaint; but they are + slight, and are getting more so every time they come. I trust she will + soon be quite well.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet fixed his eye upon the speaker with peculiar steadiness. + </p> + <p> + “Corbet,” said he, “you know you have lost a great deal of my confidence + of late. The knowledge of certain transactions which reached that strange + fellow who stopped in the Mitre, you were never able to account for.” + </p> + <p> + “And never will, sir, I fear; I can make nothing of that.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be between you and your father, then; and if I thought so—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, however, but feared to proceed with anything in the shape of a + threat, feeling that, so far as the fate of poor Fenton was concerned, he + still lay at their mercy. + </p> + <p> + “It may have been my father, Sir Thomas, and I am inclined to think it + must, too, as there was no one else could. Our best plan, however, is to + keep quiet and not provoke him. A very short time will put us out of his + power. Fenton's account with this world is nearly settled.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, with all my heart, it was closed,” observed the other; “it's a + dreadful thing to feel that you are liable to every accident, and never + beyond the reach of exposure. To me such a thing would be death.” + </p> + <p> + “You need entertain no apprehension, Sir Thomas. The young man is safe, at + last; he will never come to light, you may rest assured. But about your + son—will you not see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; order the carriage, and fetch; him—quietly and as + secretly as you can, observe—his sister must see him, too; and in + order to prepare her, I must first see her. Go now, and lose no time about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no necessity for a carriage, Sir Thomas; I can have him here in + a quarter of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas went to the drawing-room with the expectation of finding Lucy + there—a proof that the discovery of his son affected him very much, + and deeply; for, in general his habit when he wanted to speak with her was + to have her brought to the library, which was his favorite apartment. She + was not there, however, and without ringing, or making any further + inquiries, he proceeded to an elegant little boudoir, formerly occupied by + her mother and herself, before this insane persecution had rendered her + life so wretched. The chief desire of her heart now was to look at and + examine and contemplate every object that belonged to that mother, or in + which she ever took an interest. On this account, she had of late selected + this boudoir as her favorite apartment; and here, lying asleep upon a + sofa, her cheek resting upon one arm, the baronet found her. He approached + calmly, and with a more extraordinary combination of feelings than perhaps + he had ever experienced in his life, looked upon her; and whether it was + the unprotected helplessness of sleep, or the mournful impress of + suffering and sorrow, that gave such a touching charm to her beauty, or + whether it was the united influence of both, it is difficult to say; but + the fact was, that for an instant he felt one touch of pity at his heart. + </p> + <p> + “She is evidently unhappy,” thought he, as he contemplated her; “and that + face, lovely as it is, has become the exponent of misery and distress. + Goodness me! how wan she is! how pale! and how distinctly do those + beautiful blue veins run through her white and death-like temples! + Perhaps, after all, I am wrong in urging on this marriage. But what can I + do? I have no fixed principle from any source sufficiently authentic to + guide me; no creed which I can believe. This life is everything to us; for + what do we know, what can we know, of another? And yet, could it be that + for my indifference to what is termed revealed truth, God Almighty is now + making me the instrument of my own punishment? But how can I receive this + doctrine? for here, before my eyes, is not the innocent suffering as much, + if not more, than the guilty, even granting that I am so? And if I am + perversely incredulous, is not here my son restored to me, as if to reward + my unbelief? It is a mysterious maze, and I shall never get out of it; a + curse to know that the most we can ever know is, that we know—nothing. + Yet I will go on with this marriage. Pale as that brow is, I must see it + encircled by the coronet of a countess; I must see her, as she ought to + be, high in rank as she is in truth, in virtue, in true dignity. I shall + force the world to make obeisance to her; and I shall teach her afterwards + to despise it. She once said to me, 'And is it to gain the applause of a + world you hate and despise, that you wish to exalt me to such a bawble?'—meaning + the coronet. I replied, 'Yes, and for that very reason.' I shall not now + disturb her.” + </p> + <p> + He was about to leave the room, when he! noticed that her bosom began + suddenly and rapidly to heave, as if by some strong and fearful agitation; + and a series of close, pain-fed sobbings proceeded from her half-closed + lips. This tumult went on for a little, when at length it was terminated + by one long, wild scream, that might be supposed to proceed from the very + agony of despair itself; and opening her eyes, she started up, her! face, + if possible, paler than before, and her eyes filled as if with the terror + of some horrible vision. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “the sacrifice is complete—I am your wife; but there + is henceforth an eternal gulf between us, across which you shall never + drag me.” + </p> + <p> + On gazing about her with wild and disturbed looks, she paused for moment, + and, seeing her father, she rose up, and with a countenance changed from + its wildness to one in which was depicted an expression so woe-begone, so + deplorable, so full of sorrow, that it was scarcely in human nature, + hardened into the induration of the world's worst spirit, not to feel its + irresistible influence. She then threw her arms imploringly and tenderly + about his neck, and looking into his eyes as if she were supplicating for + immortal salvation at his hands, she said, “Oh, papa, have compassion on + me.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Lucy? what's the matter, my love?” + </p> + <p> + But she only repeated the words, “Oh, papa, have pity on me! have mercy on + me, papa! Save me from destruction—from despair—from madness!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't answer me, child. You have been dreaming, and are not properly + awake.” + </p> + <p> + Still, however, the arms—the beautiful arms—clung around his + neck; and still the mournful supplication was repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, have pity upon me! Look at me! Am I not your daughter? Have + mercy upon your daughter, papa!” And still she clung to him; and still + those eyes, from which the tears now flowed in torrents, were imploring + him, and gazing through his into the very soul within him; then she kissed + his lips, and hung upon him as upon her last stay; and the soft but + melting accents were again breathed mournfully and imploringly as before. + “Oh, have pity upon me, beloved papa—have pity upon your child!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Lucy? what are you asking, my dear girl? I am willing + to do anything I can to promote your happiness. What is it you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear to tell you, papa; but surely you understand me. Oh, relent! as + you hope for heaven's mercy, pity me. I have, for your sake, undertaken + too much. I have not strength to fulfil the task I imposed on myself. I + will die; you will see me dead at your feet, and then your last one will + be gone. You will be alone; and I should wish to live for your sake, papa. + Look upon me! I am your only child—your only child—your last, + as I said; and do not make your last and only one miserable—miserable—mad! + Only have compassion on me, and release me from this engagement.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet's eye brightened at the last two or three allusions, and he + looked upon her with a benignity that filled her unhappy heart with hope. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, speak, papa,” she exclaimed, “speak. I see, I feel that you are about + to give me comfort—to fill my heart with joy.” + </p> + <p> + “I am, indeed, Lucy. Listen to me, and restrain yourself. You are not my + only child!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” she exclaimed. “What do you mean, papa? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Have strength and courage, Lucy; and, mark me, no noise nor rout about + what I am going to say. Your brother is found—my son Thomas is found—and + you will soon see him; he will be here presently. Get rid of this foolish + dream you've had, and prepare to receive him!” + </p> + <p> + “My brother!” she exclaimed, “my brother! and have I a brother? Then God + has not deserted me; I shall now have a friend. My brother!—my + brother! But is it possible, or am I dreaming still? Oh, where is he, + papa? Bring me to him!—is he in the house? Or where is he? Let the + carriage be ordered, and we will both go to him. Alas, what may not the + poor boy have suffered! What privations, what necessities, what distress + and destitution may he not have suffered! But that matters little; come to + him. In want, in rags, in misery, he is welcome—yes, welcome; and, + oh, how much more if he has suffered.” + </p> + <p> + “Have patience, child; he will be here by and by. You cannot long to see + him more than I do. But, Lucy, listen to me; for the present we must keep + his discovery and restoration to us a profound secret.” + </p> + <p> + “A profound secret! and why so, papa? Why should we keep it secret? Is it + not a circumstance which we should publish to the world with delight and + gratitude? Surely you will not bring him into this house like a criminal, + in secrecy and silence? Should the lawful heir of your name and property + be suffered to enter otherwise than as becomes him? Oh, that I could see + him! Will he soon be here?” + </p> + <p> + “How your tongue runs on, you foolish girl, without knowing what you say.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what I say, papa. I know—I feel—that he will be a + friend to me—that he will share with me in my sorrows.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the sorrows of being made a countess.” + </p> + <p> + “And a wretched woman, papa. Yes, he will sympathize with, sustain, and + console me. Dear, dear brother, how I wish to see you, to press you to my + heart, and to give you a sister's tenderest welcome!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you hear me, madam?” said he, sternly; “I desire you to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa; excuse me. My head is in a tumult of joy and sorrow; but for + the present I will forget myself. Yes, papa, speak on; I hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, then, it is absolutely necessary, for reasons which I + am not yet at liberty to disclose to you, that the discovery of this boy + should be kept strictly secret for a time.” + </p> + <p> + “For a time, papa, but not long, I hope. How proud I shall feel to go out + with him. We shall be inseparable; and if he wants instructions, I shall + teach him everything I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrange all that between you as you may, only observe me, I repeat. None + in this house knows of his restoration but I, yourself, and Corbet. He + must not live here; but he shall want neither the comforts nor the + elegancies of life, at all events. This is enough for the present, so mark + my words, and abide by them.” + </p> + <p> + He then left her, and retired to his private room, where he unlocked a + cabinet, from which he took out some papers, and having added to them two + or three paragraphs, he read the whole over, from beginning to end, then + locked them up again, and returned to the library. + </p> + <p> + The reader may perceive that this unexpected discovery enabled the baronet + to extricate himself from a situation of much difficulty with respect to + Lucy; nor did he omit to avail himself of it, in order to give a new turn + to her feelings. The affectionate girl's heart was now in a tumult of + delight, checked, however, so obviously by the gloomy retrospection of the + obligation she had imposed upon herself, that from time to time she could + not repress those short sobs by which recent grief, as in the case of + children who are soothed after crying, is frequently indicated. Next to + the hated marriage, however, that which pressed most severely upon her was + the recollection of the manly and admirable qualities of him whom she had + now forever lost, especially as contrasted with those of Dunroe. The + former, for some time past, has been much engaged in attempting to trace + Fenton, as well as in business connected with his own fortunes; and yet so + high was his feeling of generosity and honor, that, if left to the freedom + of his own will, he would have postponed every exertion for the + establishment of his just rights until death should have prevented at + least one honored individual from experiencing the force of the blow which + must necessarily be inflicted on him by his proceedings. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when the baronet was giving such an adroit turn to the + distracted state of his daughter's mind, the stranger resolved to see + Birney, who was then preparing to visit France, as agent in his affairs, + he himself having preferred staying near Lucy, from an apprehension that + his absence might induce Sir Thomas Gourlay to force on her marriage. On + passing through the hall of his hotel, he met his friend Father M'Mahon, + who, much to his surprise, looked careworn and perplexed, having lost, + since he saw him last, much of his natural cheerfulness and easy + simplicity of character. He looked travel-stained, too, and altogether had + the appearance of a man on whose kind heart something unpleasant was + pressing. + </p> + <p> + “My excellent friend,” said he, “I am heartily glad to see you. But how is + this? you look as if something was wrong, and you have been travelling. + Come upstairs; and if you have any lengthened stay to make in town, + consider yourself my guest. Nay, as it is, you must stop with me. Here, + Dandy—here, you Dulcimer, bring in this gentleman's luggage, and + attend him punctually.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy, who had been coming from the kitchen at the time, was about to + comply with his orders, when he was prevented by the priest. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Dandy, you thief. My luggage, sir! In truth, the only luggage I + have is this bundle under my arm. As to my time in town, sir, I hope it + won't be long; but, long or short, I must stop at my ould place, the + Brazen Head, for not an hour's comfort I could have in any other place, + many thanks to you. I'm now on my way to it; but I thought I'd give you a + call when passing.” + </p> + <p> + They then proceeded upstairs to the stranger's room, where breakfast was + soon provided for the priest, who expressed an anxiety to know how the + stranger's affairs proceeded, and whether any satisfactory trace of poor + Fenton had been obtained. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing satisfactory has turned up in either case,” replied the stranger. + “No additional clew to the poor young fellow has been got, and still my + own affairs are far from being complete. The loss of important documents + obtained by myself in France will render it necessary for Birney to + proceed to that country, in order to procure fresh copies. I had intended + to accompany him myself; but I have changed my mind on that point, and + prefer remaining where I am. A servant in whom I had every confidence, but + who, unfortunately, took to drink, and worse vices, robbed me of them, and + has fled to America, with a pretty Frenchwoman, after having abandoned his + wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” replied the priest, “that is the old story; first drink, and + after that wickedness of every description. Ah, sir, it's a poor wretched + world; but at the same time it is as God made it; and it becomes our duty + to act an honest and a useful part in it, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “You seemed depressed, sir, I think,” observed the stranger; “I hope there + is nothing wrong. If there is, command my services, my friendship, my + purse; in each, in all, command me.” + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks, many thanks,” returned the other, seizing him warmly by the + hand, whilst the tears fell from his eyes. “I wish there were more in the + world like you. There is nothing wrong with me, however, but what I will + be able, I hope, to set right soon.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust you will not allow any false delicacy to stand in your way, so + far as I am concerned,” said the stranger. “I possess not only the wish + but the ability to serve you; and if—” + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” replied the priest; “nothing to signify is wrong with me. God + bless you, though, and he will, too, and prosper your honorable endeavors. + I must go now: I have to call on old Corbet, and if I can influence him to + assist you in tracing that poor young man, I will do it. He is hard and + cunning, I know; but then he is not insensible to the fear of death, + which, indeed, is the only argument likely to prevail with him.” + </p> + <p> + “You should dine with me to-day,” said his friend, “but that I am myself + engaged to dine with Dean Palmer, where I am to meet the colonel of the + Thirty-third, and some of the officers. It is the first time I have dined + out since I came to the country. The colonel is an old friend of mine, and + can be depended on.” + </p> + <p> + “The dean is a brother-in-law of Lady Gourlay's, is he not?” + </p> + <p> + “He is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and what is better still, he is an excellent man, and a good + Christian. I wish there were more like him in the country. I know the good + done by him in my own neighborhood, where he has established, by his + individual exertions, two admirable institutions for the poor—a + savings' bank and a loan fund—to the manifest, relief of every + struggling man who is known to be industrious and honest; and see the + consequences—he is loved and honored by all who know him, for he is + perpetually doing good.” + </p> + <p> + “Your own bishop is not behindhand in offices of benevolence and charity, + any more than Dean Palmer,” observed the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “In truth, you may say so,” replied, the other. “With the piety and + humility of an apostle, he possesses the most childlike simplicity of + heart; to which I may add, learning the most profound and extensive. His + private charity to the poor will always cause himself to be ranked among + their number. I wish every dean and bishop in the two churches resembled + the Christian men we speak of; it would be well for the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Birney, I know, stands well with you. I believe, and I take it for + granted, that he does also with the people.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be certain of that, my dear sir. He is one of the few attorneys + who is not a rogue, but, what is still more extraordinary, an honest man + and an excellent landlord. I will tell you, now, what he did some time + ago. He has property, you know, in my parish. On that property an arrear + of upwards of eight hundred pounds had accumulated. Now, this arrear, in + consideration of the general depression in the value of agricultural + produce, he not only wiped off, but abated the rents ten per cent. Again, + when a certain impost, which shall be nameless (tithe), became a settled + charge upon the lands, under a composition act, instead of charging it + against the tenants, he paid it himself, never calling upon a tenant to + pay one farthing of it. Now, I mention these things as an example to be + held up and imitated by those who hold landed property in general, many of + whom, the Lord knows, require such an example badly; but I must not stop + here. Our friend Birney has done more than this. + </p> + <p> + “For the last fifteen years he has purchased for and supplied his tenants + with flaxseed, and for which, at the subsequent gale time, in October, + they merely repay him the cost price, without interest or any other charge + save that of carriage. + </p> + <p> + “He also gives his tenantry, free of all charges, as much turf-bog as is + necessary for the abundant supply of their own fuel. + </p> + <p> + “He has all along paid the poor-rates, without charging one farthing to + the tenant. + </p> + <p> + “During a season of potato blight, he forgave every tenant paying under + ten pounds, half a year's rent; under twenty, a quarter's rent; and over + it, twenty per cent. Now, it is such landlords as this that are the best + benefactors to the people, to the country, and ultimately to themselves; + but, unfortunately, we cannot get them to think so; and I fear that + nothing but the iron scourge of necessity will ever teach them their duty, + and then, like most other knowledge derived from the same painful source, + it will probably come too late. One would imagine a landlord ought to know + without teaching, that, when he presses his tenantry until they fall, he + must himself fall with them. In truth, I must be off now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, promise to dine with me tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “If I can I will, then, with pleasure; but still it may be out of my + power. I'll try, however. What's your hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Suit your own convenience: name it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Good honest old five o'clock, then; that is, if I can come at all, but if + I cannot, don't be disappointed. The Lord knows I'll do everything in my + power to come, at any rate; and if I fail, it won't be my heart that will + hinder me.” + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, the stranger, after a pause, rang his bell, and in a few + moments Dandy Dulcimer made his appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Dandy,” said his master, “I fear we are never likely to trace this woman, + Mrs. Norton, whom I am so anxious to find.” + </p> + <p> + “Begad, plaise your honor, and it isn't but there's enough of them to be + had. Sure it's a levy I'm houldin' every day in the week wid them, and + only that I'm engaged, as they say, I'd be apt to turn some o' them into + Mrs. Dulcimer.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that, Dandy?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, I gave out that you're young and handsome, God pardon me.” + </p> + <p> + “How, sirra,” said his master, laughing, “do you mean to say that I am + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, wait till you hear, and then you may answer yourself; as for + me, afther what I've seen, I'll not undertake to give an opinion on the + subject. I suppose I'm an ugly fellow myself, and yet I know a sartin fair + one that's not of that opinion—ahem!” + </p> + <p> + “Make yourself intelligible in the meantime,” said his master: “I don't + properly understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just what the Mrs. Nortons say, your honor. 'I don't understand + you, sir;' and that is bekaise you keep me in the dark, and that I can't + explain to them properly what you want; divil a thing but an oracle you've + made of me. But as to beauty—only listen, sir. This mornin' there + came a woman to me wid a thin, sharp face, a fiery eye that looked as if + she had a drop in it, or was goin' to fight a north-wester, and a thin, + red nose that was nothing else than a stunner. She was, moreover, a good + deal of the gentleman on the upper lip—not to mention two or three + separate plantations of the same growth on different parts of the chin. + Altogether, I was very much struck with her appearance.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too descriptive, Dandy,” said his master, after enjoying the + description, however; “come to the point.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that's just what she said,” replied Dandy, “coaxing the point of her + nose wid her finger and thumb: 'Come to the point,' said she; 'mention the + services your master requires from me.' + </p> + <p> + “'From you,' says I, lookin' astonished, as you may suppose—'from + you, ma'am?' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, my good man, from me; I'm Mrs. Norton.' + </p> + <p> + “'Are you indeed, ma'am?' says I; 'I hope you're well, Mrs. Norton. My + master will be delighted to see you.' + </p> + <p> + “'What kind of a man is he?' she asked. + </p> + <p> + “'Young and handsome, ma'am,' says I; 'quite a janious in beauty.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' says my lady, 'so far so good; I'm young and handsome myself, as + you see, and I dare say we'll live happily enough together;' and as she + spoke, she pushed up an old bodice that was tied round something that + resembled a dried skeleton, which it only touched at points, like a reel + in a bottle, strivin', of course, to show off a good figure; she then + winked both eyes, as if she was meetin' a cloud o' dust, and agin shuttin' + one, as if she was coverin' me wid a rifle, whispered, 'You'll find me + generous maybe, if you desarve it. I'll increase your allowances afther + our marriage.' + </p> + <p> + “'Thanks, ma'am,' says I, 'but my masther isn't a marryin' man—unfortunately, + he is married; still,' says I, recoverin' myself—for it struck me + that she might be the right woman, afther all—'although he's + married, his wife's an invalid; so that it likely you may be the lady + still. Were you ever in France, ma'am?' + </p> + <p> + “'No,' says she, tossing up the stunner I spoke of, 'I never was in + Prance; but I was in Tipperary, if that would sarve him.' + </p> + <p> + “I shook my head, your honor, as much as to say—'It's no go this + time.' + </p> + <p> + “'Ma'am,' says I, 'that's unfortunate—my masther, when he gets a + loose leg, will never marry any woman that has not been in France, and can + dance the fandango like a Frenchman.' + </p> + <p> + “'I am sorry for his taste,' says she, 'and for yours, too; but at all + events, you had better go up and tell him that I'll walk down the opposite + side of the street, and then he can see what he has lost, and feel what + France has cost him.' + </p> + <p> + “She then walked, sir, or rather sailed, down the other side of the + street, holdin' up her clothes behind, to show a pair of legs like + telescopes, with her head to it's full height, and one eye squintin' to + the hotel, like a crow lookin' into a marrow bone.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said his master, “but I don't see the object of all this.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the object, sir, is to show you that it's not so aisy to know + whether a person's young and handsome or not. You, sir, think yourself + both; and so did the old skeleton I'm spakin' of.” + </p> + <p> + “I see your moral, Dandy,” replied his master, laughing; “at all events, + make every possible inquiry, but, at the same time, in a quiet way. More + depends upon it than you can imagine. Not,” he added, in a kind of half + soliloquy, “that I am acting in this affair from motives of a mere + personal nature; I am now only the representative of another's wishes, and + on that account, more than from any result affecting myself, do I proceed + in it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I knew, sir,” said Dandy, “what kind of a woman this Mrs. Norton + is; whether she's old or young, handsome or otherwise. At all events, I + think I may confine myself to them that's young and handsome. It's always + pleasanter, sir, and more agreeable to deal with a hands—” + </p> + <p> + “Confine yourself to truth, sir,” replied his master, sharply; “make + prudent inquiries, and in doing so act like a man of sense and discretion, + and don't attempt to indulge in your buffoonery at my expense. No woman + named Norton can be the individual I want to find, who has not lived for + some years in France. That is a sufficient test; and if you should come in + the way of the woman I am seeking, who alone can answer this description, + I shall make it worth your while to have succeeded.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTEK XXXIII. The Priest asks for a Loan of Fifty Guineas + </h2> + <h3> + —and Offers “Freney the Robber” as Security. + </h3> + <p> + Whilst Father M'Mahon was wending his way to Constitution Hill from the + Brazen Head, where he had deposited his little bundle, containing three + shirts, two or three cravats, and as many pairs of stockings, a dialogue + was taking place in old Corbet's with which we must make the reader + acquainted. He is already aware that Corbet's present wife was his second, + and that she had a daughter by her first marriage, who had gone abroad to + the East Indies, many years ago, with her husband. This woman was no other + than Mrs. M'Bride, wife of the man who had abandoned her for the French + girl, as had been mentioned by the stranger to Father M'Mahon, and who + had, as was supposed, eloped with her to America. Such certainly was + M'Bride's intention, and there is no doubt that the New World would have + been edified by the admirable example of these two moralists, were it not + for the fact that Mrs. M'Bride, herself as shrewd as the Frenchwoman, and + burdened with as little honesty as the husband, had traced them to the + place of rendezvous on the very first night of their disappearance; where, + whilst they lay overcome with sleep and the influence of the rosy god, she + contrived to lessen her husband of the pocketbook which he had helped + himself to from his master's escritoire, with the exception, simply, of + the papers in question, which, not being money, possessed in her eyes but + little value to her. She had read them, however; and as she had through + her husband become acquainted with their object, she determined on leaving + them in his hands, with a hope that they might become the means of + compromising matters with his master, and probably of gaining a reward for + their restoration. Unfortunately, however, it so happened, that that + gentleman did not miss them until some time after his arrival in Ireland; + but, on putting matters together, and comparing the flight of M'Bride with + the loss of his property, he concluded, with everything short of + certainty, that the latter was the thief. + </p> + <p> + Old Corbet and this woman were seated in the little back parlor whilst + Mrs. Corbet kept the shop, so that their conversation could take a freer + range in her absence. + </p> + <p> + “And so you tell me, Kate,” said the former, “that the vagabond has come + back to the country?” + </p> + <p> + “I seen him with my own eyes,” she replied; “there can be no mistake about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “And he doesn't suspect you of takin' the money from him?” + </p> + <p> + “No more than he does you; so far from that, I wouldn't be surprised if + it's the Frenchwoman he suspects.” + </p> + <p> + “But hadn't you better call on him? that is, if you know where he lives. + Maybe he's sorry for leavin' you.” + </p> + <p> + “He, the villain! No; you don't know the life he led me. If he was my + husband—as unfortunately he is—a thousand times over, a single + day I'll never live with him. This lameness, that I'll carry to my grave, + is his work. Oh, no; death any time sooner than that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the old man, after a lung pause, “it's a strange story you've + tould me; and I'm sorry, for Lord Cullamore's sake, to hear it. He's one + o' the good ould gentlemen that's now so scarce in the country. But, tell + me, do you know where M'Bride lives?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “I do not, neither do I care much; but I'd be glad that + his old master had back his papers. There's a woman supposed to be livin' + in this country that could prove this stranger's case, and he came over + here to find her out if he could.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know her name?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I don't think I ever heard it, or, if I did, I can't at all remember + it. M'Bride mentioned the woman, but I don't think he named her.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events,” replied Corbet, “it doesn't signify. I hope whatever + steps they're takin' against that good ould nobleman will fail; and if I + had the papers you speak of this minute, I'd put them into the fire. In + the mane time try and make out where your vagabone of a husband lives, or, + rather, set Ginty to work, as she and you are living together, and no + doubt she'll soon ferret him out.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand Ginty at all,” replied the woman. “I think, although + she has given up fortune tellin', that her head's not altogether right + yet. She talks of workin' out some prophecy that she tould Sir Thomas + Gourlay about himself and his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “She may talk as much about that as she likes,” replied the old fellow. + “She called him plain Thomas Gourlay, didn't she, and said he'd be + stripped of his title?” + </p> + <p> + “So she told me; and that his daughter would be married to Lord Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and so she tould myself; but there she's in the dark. The daughter + will be Lady Dunroe, no doubt, for they're goin' to be married; but she's + takin' a bad way to work out the prophecy against the father by —hem—” + </p> + <p> + “By what?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not free to mention it, Kate; but this very day it's to take place, + and. I suppose it'll soon be known to everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but sure you might mention it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll make a bargain with you, then. Set Ginty to work; let her find out + your husband; get me the papers you spake of, and I'll tell you all about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart, father. I'm sure I don't care if you had them this + minute. Let Ginty try her hand, and if she can succeed, well and good.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Kate,” said her father, “I'm glad I seen you; but I think it was + your duty to call upon me long before this.” + </p> + <p> + “I would, but that I was afraid you wouldn't see me; and, besides, Ginty + told me it was better not for some time. She kept me back, or I would have + come months ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay; she has some devil's scheme in view that'll end in either nothing + or something. Good-by, now; get me these papers, and I'll tell you what'll + be worth hearin'.” + </p> + <p> + Immediately after her departure Father M'Mahon entered, and found Corbet + behind his counter as usual. Each on looking at the other was much struck + by his evident appearance for the worse; a circumstance, however, which + caused no observation until after they had gone into the little back room. + Corbet's countenance, in addition to a careworn look, and a consequent + increase of emaciation, presented a very difficult study to the + physiognomist, a study not unobserved! by the priest himself. It was + indicative of the conflicting resolutions which had for some time past + been alternating in his mind; but so roguishly was each resolution veiled + by an assumed expression of an opposite I nature, that although the + general inference was true, the hypocrisy of the whole face made it + individually false. Let us suppose, by way of illustration, that a man + whose heart is full of joy successfully puts on a look of grief, and vice + versa. Of course, the physiognomist will be mistaken in the conclusions he + draws from each individual expression, although correct in perceiving that + there are before him the emotions of joy and grief; the only difference + being, that dissimulation has put wrong labels upon each emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Anthony,” said his reverence, after having taken a seat, “I am sorry to + see such a change upon you for the worse. You are very much broken down + since I saw you last; and although I don't wish to become a messenger of + bad news, I feel, that as a clergyman, it is my duty to tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, your reverence,” replied the other, “I'm sorry that so far as bad + looks go I must return the compliment. It grieves me: to see you look so + ill, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I look ill,” replied the other; “and I know too that these hints + are sent to us in mercy, with a fatherly design on the part of our + Creator, that we may make the necessary preparations for the change, the + awful change that is before us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed, sir, it's true enough,” replied Corbet, whose visage had + become much blanker at this serious intimation, notwithstanding his + hypocrisy; “it's true enough, sir; too true, indeed, if we could only + remember it as we ought. Have you been unwell, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in my bodily health, thank God, but I've got into trouble; and what + is more, I'm coming to you, Anthony, with a firm I hope that you will + bring me out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “The trouble can't be very great then,” replied the apprehensive old + knave, “or I wouldn't be able to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Anthony,” said the priest, “I have known you a long time, now forty years + at least, and you need not be told that I've stood by some of your friends + when they wanted it. When your daughter ran away with that M'Bride, I got + him to marry her, a thing he was very unwilling to do; and which I + believe, only for me, he would not have done. On that occasion you know I + advanced twenty guineas to enable them to begin the world, and to keep the + fellow with her; and I did this all for the best, and not without the hope + either that you would see me reimbursed for what you ought, as her father, + to have given them yourself. I spoke to you once or twice about it, but + you lent me the deaf ear, as they call it, and from that day to this you + never had either the manliness or the honesty to repay me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” replied Corbet, with one of his usual grins, “you volunteered to be + generous to a profligate, who drank it, and took to the army.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you then volunteer to be generous to an honest man; I will neither + drink It nor take to the army. If he took to the army, he didn't do so + without taking your daughter along with him. I spoke to Sir Edward + Gourlay, who threatened to write to his colonel; and through the + interference of the same humane gentleman I got permission for him to + bring his wife along with him. These are circumstances that you ought not + to forget, Anthony.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't forget them, but sure you're always in somebody's affairs; always + goin' security for some of your poor parishioners; and then, when they're + not able to pay, down comes the responsibility upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot see a poor honest man, struggling and industrious, at a loss for + a friendly act. No; I never could stand it, so long as I had it in my + power to assist him.” + </p> + <p> + “And what's wrong now, if it's a fair question?” + </p> + <p> + “Two or three things; none of them very large, but amounting in all to + about fifty guineas.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew!—fifty guineas!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, indeed; fifty guineas, which you will lend me on my own security.” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty guineas to you? Don't I know you? Why, if you had a thousand, let + alone fifty, it's among the poor o' the parish they'd be afore a week. + Faith, I know you too well Father Peter.” + </p> + <p> + “You know me, man alive—yes, you do know me; and it is just because + you do that I expect you will lend me the money. You wouldn't wish to see + my little things pulled about and auctioned; my laughy little library + gone; nor would you wish to see me and poor Freney the Robber separated. + Big Ruly desaved me, the thief; but I found him out at last. Money I know + is a great temptation, and so is mate when trusted to a shark like him; + but any way, may the Lord pardon the blackguard! and that's the worst I + wish him.” + </p> + <p> + There are some situations in life where conscience is more awakened by + comparison, or perhaps we should say by the force of contrast, than by all + the power of reason, religion, or philosophy, put together, and advancing + against it in their proudest pomp and formality. The childlike simplicity, + for instance, of this good and benevolent man, earnest and eccentric as it + was, occasioned reflections more painful and touching to the callous but + timid heart of this old manoeuvrer than could whole homilies, or the most + serious and lengthened exhortations. + </p> + <p> + “I am near death,” thought he, as he looked upon the countenance of the + priest, from which there now beamed an emanation of regret, not for his + difficulties, for he had forgotten them, but for his knavish servant—so + simple, so natural, so affecting, so benevolent, that Corbet was deeply + struck by them. “I am near death,” he proceeded, “and what would I not + give to have within me a heart so pure and free from villany as that man. + He has made me feel more by thinkin' of what goodness and piety can do, + than I ever felt in my life; and now if he gets upon Freney the Robber, or + lugs in that giant Ruly, he'll forget debts, difficulties, and all for the + time. Heavenly Father, that I had as happy a heart this day, and as free + from sin!” + </p> + <p> + “Anthony,” said the priest, “I must tell you about Freney—” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, if you plaise,” replied the other, “not now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, about poor Mat Ruly; do you know that I think by taking him back I + might be able to reclaim him yet. The Lord has gifted him largely in one + way, I admit; but still—” + </p> + <p> + “But still your bacon and greens would pay for it. I know it all, and who + doesn't? But about your own affairs?” + </p> + <p> + “In truth, they are in a bad state—the same bacon and greens—he + has not left me much of either; he made clean work of them, at any rate, + before he went.” + </p> + <p> + “But about your affairs, I'm sayin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, they can't be worse; I'm run to the last pass; and Freney now, the + crature, when the saddle's on him, comes to the mounting-stone of himself, + and waits there till I'm ready. Then,” he added, with a deep sigh, “to + think of parting with him! And I must do it—I must;” and here the + tears rose to his eyes so copiously that he was obliged to take out his + cotton handkerchief and wipe them away. + </p> + <p> + The heart of the old miser was touched. He knew not why, it is true, but + he felt that the view he got of one immortal spirit uncorrupted by the + crimes and calculating hypocrisy of life, made the contemplation of his + own state and condition, as well as of his future hopes, fearful. + </p> + <p> + “What would I not give,” thought he, “to have a soul as free from sin and + guilt, and to be as fit to face my God as that man? And yet they say it + can be brought about. Well, wait—wait till I have my revenge on this + black villain, and I'll see what may be done. Ay, let what will happen, + the shame and ruin of my child must be revenged. And yet, God help me, + what am I sayin'? Would this good man say that? He that forgives every one + and everything. Still, I'll repent in the long run. Come, Father Peter,” + said he, “don't be cast down; I'll thry what I can for you; but then, + again, if I do, what security can you give me?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Freney the Robber—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, do you hear this!” + </p> + <p> + “—Was a name I gave him on account of—” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, I'll put on my hat and lave you here, if you don't spake out about + what you came for. How much is it you say you want?” + </p> + <p> + The good man, who was startled out of his affection for Freney by the tone + of Corbet's voice more than by his words, now raised his head, and looked + about him somewhat like a person restored to consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Anthony,” said he; “yes, man alive; there's kindness in that.” + </p> + <p> + “In what, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “In the very tones of your voice, I say. God has touched your heart, I + hope. But oh, Anthony, if it were His blessed will to soften it—to + teach it to feel true contrition and repentance, and to fill it with love + for His divine will in all things, and for your fellow-creatures, too—how + little would I think of my own miserable difficulties! Father of all + mercy! if I could be sure that I had gained even but one soul to heaven, I + would say that I had not been born and lived in vain!” + </p> + <p> + “He'll never let me do it,” thought Corbet, vexed, and still more softened + by the piety, the charity, and the complete forgetfulness of self, which + the priest's conduct manifested. Yet was this change not brought about + without difficulty, and those pitiful misgivings and calculations which + assail and re-assail a heart that has been for a long time under the + influence of the world and those base principles by which it is actuated. + In fact, this close, nervous, and penurious old man felt, when about to + perform this generous action, all that alarm and hesitation which a + virtuous man would feel when on the eve of committing a crime. He was + about to make an inroad upon his own system—going to change the + settled habits of his whole life, and, for a moment, he entertained + thoughts of altering his purpose. Then he began to think that this visit + of the priest might have been a merciful and providential one; he next + took a glimpse at futurity—reflected for a moment on his unprepared + state, and then decided to assist the priest now, and consider the + necessity for repentance as soon as he felt it convenient to do so + afterwards. + </p> + <p> + How strange and deceptive, and how full of the subtlest delusions, are the + workings of the human heart! + </p> + <p> + “And now, Anthony,” proceeded the priest, “while I think of it, let me + speak to you on another affair.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, sir,” replied Corbet, somewhat querulously, “that you're + determined to prevent me from sarvin' you. If my mind changes, I won't do + it; so stick to your own business first. I know very well what you're + goin' to spake about. How much do you want, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty guineas. I'm responsible for three bills to that amount. The bills + are not for myself, but for three honest families that have been brought + low by two of the worst enemies that ever Ireland had—bad landlords + and bad times.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I'll give you the money.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Anthony!” exclaimed the good man, “God bless you! and + above all things may He enable you and all of us to prepare for the life + that is before us.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony paused a moment, and looked with a face of deep perplexity at the + priest. + </p> + <p> + “Why am I doin' this,” said he, half repentant of the act, “and me can't + afford it? You must give me your bill, sir, at three months, and I'll + charge you interest besides.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you my bill, certainly,” replied the priest, “and you may + charge interest too; but be moderate.” + </p> + <p> + Corbet then went upstairs, much at that pace which characterizes the + progress of a felon from the press-room to the gallows; here he remained + for some time—reckoning the money—paused on the stairhead—and + again the slow, heavy, lingering step was heard descending, and, as nearly + as one could judge, with as much reluctance as that with which it went up. + He then sat down and looked steadily, but with a good deal of abstraction, + at the priest, after having first placed the money on his own side of the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a blank bill?” asked the priest. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you got a blank bill? or, sure we can send out for one.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “For a blank bill.” + </p> + <p> + “A blank bill—yes—oh, ay—fifty guineas!—why, + that's half a hundre'. God protect me! what am I about? Well, well; there—there—there; + now put it in your pocket;” and as he spoke he shoved it over hastily to + the priest, as if he feared his good resolution might fail him at last. + </p> + <p> + “But about the bill, man alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Hang the bill—deuce take all the bills that ever were drawn! I'm + the greatest ould fool that ever wore a head—to go to allow myself + to be made a—a—. Take your money away out of this, I bid you—your + money—no, but my money. I suppose I may bid farewell to it—for + so long as any one tells you a story of distress, and makes a poor mouth + to you, so long you'll get yourself into a scrape on their account.” + </p> + <p> + The priest had already put the money in his pocket, but he instantly took + it out, and placed it once more on Corbet's side of the table. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said he, “keep it. I will receive no money that is lent in such a + churlish and unchristian spirit. And I tell you now, moreover, that if I + do accept it, it must be on the condition of your listening to what I feel + it my duty to say to you. You, Anthony Corbet, have committed a black and + deadly crime against the bereaved widow, against society, against the will + of a merciful and—take care that you don't find him, too—a + just God. It is quite useless for you to deny it; I have spoken the truth, + and you know it. Why will you not enable that heart-broken and kind lady—whose + whole life is one perpetual good action—to trace and get back her + son?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't do it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a deliberate falsehood, sir. Your conscience tells you it's a he. + In your last conversation with me, at the Brazen Head, you as good as + promised to do something of the kind in a couple of months. That time and + more has now passed, and yet you have done nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't I know that the widow has got no trace of her child? And right well + I know that you could restore him to her if you wished. However, I leave + you now to the comfort of your own hardened and wicked heart. The day will + come soon when the black catalogue of your own guilt will rise up + fearfully before you—when a death-bed, with all its horrors, will + startle the very soul within you by its fiery recollections. It is then, + my friend, that you will feel—when it is too late—what it is + to have tampered with and despised the mercy of God, and have neglected, + while you had time, to prepare yourself for His awful judgment. Oh, what + would I not do to turn your heart from the dark spirit of revenge that + broods in it, and changes you into a demon! Mark these words, Anthony. + They are spoken, God knows, with an anxious and earnest wish for your + repentance, and, if neglected, they will rise and sound the terrible + sentence of your condemnation at the last awful hour. Listen to them, then—listen + to them in time, I entreat, I beseech you—I would go on my bare + knees to you to do so.” Here his tears fell fast, as he proceeded, “I + would; and, believe me, I have thought of you and prayed for you, and now + you see that I cannot but weep for you, when I know that you have the + knowledge—perhaps the guilt of this heinous crime locked up in your + heart, and will not reveal it. Have compassion, then, on the widow—enable + her friends to restore her child to her longing arms; purge yourself of + this great guilt, and you may believe me, that even in a temporal point of + view it will be the best rewarded action you ever performed; but this is + little—the darkness that is over your heart will disappear, your + conscience will become light, and all its reflections sweet and full of + heavenly comfort; your death-bed will be one of peace, and hope, and joy. + Restore, then, the widow's son, and forbear your deadly revenge against + that wretched baronet, and God will restore you to a happiness that the + world can neither give nor take away.” + </p> + <p> + Corbet's cheek became pale as death itself whilst the good man spoke, but + no other symptom of emotion was perceptible; unless, indeed, that his + hands, as he unconsciously played with the money, were quite tremulous. + </p> + <p> + The priest, having concluded, rose to depart, having completely forgotten + the principal object of his visit. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” said Corbet, “won't you take the money with you?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends upon your reply,” returned the priest; “and I entreat you to + let me have a favorable one.” + </p> + <p> + “One part of what you wish I will do,” he replied; “the other is out of my + power at present. I am not able to do it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't properly understand you,” said the other; “or rather, I don't + understand you at all. Do you mean what you have just said to be favorable + or otherwise?” + </p> + <p> + “I have come to a resolution,” replied Corbet, “and time will tell whether + it's in your favor or not. You must be content with this, for more I will + not say now; I cannot. There's your money, but I'll take no bill from you. + Your promise is sufficient—only say you will pay me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will pay you, if God spares me life.” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough; unless, indeed “—again pausing. + </p> + <p> + “Satisfy yourself,” said the priest; “I will give you either my bill or + note of hand.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I tell you. I am satisfied. Leave everything to time.” + </p> + <p> + “That may do very well, but it does not apply to eternity, Anthony. In the + meantime I thank you; for I admit you have taken me out of a very + distressing difficulty. Good-by—God bless you; and, above all + things, don't forget the words I have spoken to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Corbet, after the priest had gone, “something must be done; I + can't stand this state of mind long, and if death should come on me before + I've made my peace with God—but then, the black villain!—come + or go what may, he must be punished, and Ginty's and Tom's schemes must be + broken. That vagabone, too! I can't forget the abuse he gave me in the + watch-house; however, I'll set the good act against the bad one, and who + knows but the one may wipe out the other? I suppose the promisin' youth + has seen his father, and thinks himself the welcome heir of his title and + property by this; and the father too—but wait, if I don't dash that + cup from his lips, and put one to it filled with gall, I'm not here; and + then when it's done, I'll take to religion for the remainder of my life.” + </p> + <p> + What old Corbet said was, indeed, true enough; and this brings us to the + interview between Mr. Ambrose Gray, his parent, and his sister. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing which so truly and often so severely tests the state of + man's heart, or so painfully disturbs the whole frame of his moral being + as the occurrence of some important event that is fraught with happiness. + Such an event resembles the presence of a good man among a set of + profligates, causing them to feel the superiority of virtue over vice, and + imposing a disagreeable restraint, not only upon their actions, but their + very thoughts. When the baronet, for instance, went from his bedroom to + the library, he experienced the full force of this observation. A + disagreeable tumult prevailed within him. It is true, he felt, as every + parent must feel, to a greater or less extent delighted at the + contemplation of his son's restoration to him. But, at the same time, the + tenor of his past life rose up in painful array before him, and occasioned + reflections that disturbed him deeply. Should this young man prove, on + examination, to resemble his sister in her views of moral life in general—should + he find him as delicately virtuous, and animated by the same pure sense of + honor, he felt that his recovery would disturb the future habits of his + life, and take away much of the gratification which he expected from his + society. These considerations, we say, rendered him so anxious and uneasy, + that he actually wished to find him something not very far removed from a + profligate. He hoped that he might be inspired with his own views of + society and men, and that he would now have some one to countenance him in + all his selfish designs and projects. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. Young Gourlay's Affectionate Interview with His Father + </h2> + <h3> + —Risk of Strangulation—Movements of M'Bride. + </h3> + <p> + It is not necessary here to suggest to the reader that Tom Corbet, who + knew the baronet's secrets and habits of life so thoroughly, had prepared + Mr. Ambrose Gray, by frequent rehearsals, for the more adroit performance + of the task that was before him. + </p> + <p> + At length a knock, modest but yet indicative of something like authority, + was heard at the hall-door, and the baronet immediately descended to the + dining-room, where he knew he could see his son with less risk of + interruption. He had already intimated to Lucy that she should not make + her appearance until summoned for that purpose. + </p> + <p> + At length Mr. Gray was shown into the dining-room, and the baronet, who, + as usual, was pacing it to and fro, suddenly turned round, and without any + motion to approach his son, who stood with a dutiful look, as if to await + his will, he fixed his eyes upon him with a long, steady, and scrutinizing + gaze. There they stood, contemplating each other with earnestness, and so + striking, so extraordinary was the similarity between their respective + features, that, in everything but years, they appeared more like two + counterparts than father and son. Each, on looking at the other, felt, in + fact, the truth of this unusual resemblance, and the baronet at once + acknowledged its influence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he exclaimed, approaching Mr. Gray, “yes, there is no mistake here; + he is my son. I acknowledge him.” He extended his hand, and shook that of + the other, then seized both with a good deal of warmth, and welcomed him. + Ambrose, however, was not satisfied with this, but, extricating his hands, + he threw his arms round the baronet's neck, and exclaimed in the words of + an old play, in which he had been studying a similar scene for the present + occasion, “My father! my dear father! Oh, and have I a father! Oh, let me + press him to my heart!” And as he spoke he contrived to execute half a + dozen dry sobs (for he could not accomplish the tears), that would have + done credit to the best actor of the day. + </p> + <p> + The baronet, who never relished any exhibition of emotion or tenderness, + began to have misgivings as to his character, and consequently suffered + these dutiful embraces instead of returning them. + </p> + <p> + “There, Tom,” he exclaimed, laughing, “that will do. There, man,” he + repeated, for he felt that Tom was about recommencing another rather + vigorous attack, whilst the sobs were deafening, “there, I say; don't + throttle me; that will do, sirrah; there now. On this occasion it is + natural; but in general I detest snivelling—it's unmanly.” + </p> + <p> + Tom at once took the hint, wiped his eyes, a work in this instance of the + purest supererogation, and replied, “So do I, father; it's decidedly the + province of an old woman when she is past everything else. But on such an + occasion I should be either more or less than man not to feel as I ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, that is very well said. I hope you are not a fool like your—Corbet, + go out. I shall send for you when we want you. I hope,” he repeated, after + Corbet had disappeared, “I hope you are not a fool, like your sister. Not + that I can call her a fool, either; but she is obstinate and self-willed.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear this, sir. My sister ought to have no will but yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that is better,” replied the baronet, rubbing his hands cheerfully. + “Hang it, how like?” he exclaimed, looking at him once more. “You resemble + me confoundedly, Tom—at least in person; and if you do in mind and + purpose, we'll harmonize perfectly. Well, then, I have a thousand + questions to ask you, but I will have time enough for that again; in the + meantime, Tom, what's your opinion of life—of the world—of + man, Tom, and of woman? I wish to know what kind of stuff you're made of.” + </p> + <p> + “Of life, sir—why, that we are to take the most we can out of it. Of + the world—that I despise it. Of man—that every one is a rogue + when he's found out, and that if he suffers himself to be found out he's a + fool; so that the fools and the rogues have it between them.” + </p> + <p> + “And where do you leave the honest men, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “The what, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “The honest men.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not acquainted, sir, nor have I ever met a man who was, with any + animal of that class. The world, sir, is a moral fiction; a mere term in + language that represents negation.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Born to administer to our pleasure, our interest, or our ambition, with + no other purpose in life. Have I answered my catechism like a good boy, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, indeed, Tom. Why, in your notions of life and the world, you + seem to be quite an adept.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad, sir, that you approve of them. So far we are likely to agree. + I feel quite proud, sir, that my sentiments are in unison with yours. But + where is my sister, sir? I am quite impatient to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “I will send for her immediately. And now that I have an opportunity, let + me guard you against her influence. I am anxious to bring about a marriage + between her and a young nobleman—Lord Dunroe—who will soon be + the Earl of Cullamore, for his old father is dying, or near it, and then + Lucy will be a countess. To effect this has been the great ambition of my + life. Now, you must not only prevent Lucy from gaining you over to her + interests, for she would nearly as soon die as marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you pshaw for, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “All nonsense, sir. She doesn't know her own mind; or, rather, she ought + to have no mind on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly right; my identical sentiments. Lucy, however, detests this + lord, notwithstanding—ay, worse than she does the deuce himself. You + must, therefore, not permit yourself to be changed or swayed by her + influence, but support me by every argument and means in your power.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't fear me, sir. Your interests, or rather the girl's own, if she only + knows them, shall have my most strenuous support.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Tom. I see that you and I are likely to agree thoroughly. I + shall now send for her. She is a superb creature, and less than a countess + I shall not have her.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, when the servant announced her father's wish to see her, was engaged + in picturing to herself the subject of her brother's personal appearance. + She had always heard that he resembled her mother, and on this account + alone she felt how very dear he should be to her. With a flushing, joyful, + but palpitating heart, she descended the stairs, and with a trembling hand + knocked at the door. On entering, she was about to rush into her + newly-found relative's arms, but, on casting her eyes around, she + perceived her father and him standing side by side, so startlingly alike + in feature, expression, and personal figure, that her heart, until then + bounding with rapture, sank at once, and almost became still. The quick + but delicate instincts of her nature took the alarm, and a sudden weakness + seized her whole frame. “In this young man,” she said to herself, “I have + found a brother, but not a friend; not a feature of my dear mother in that + face.” + </p> + <p> + This change, and this rush of reflection, took place almost in a moment, + and ere she had time to speak she found herself in Mr. Ambrose Gray's + arms. The tears at once rushed to her eyes, but they were not such tears + as she expected to have shed. Joy there was, but, alas, how much mitigated + was its fervency! And when her brother spoke, the strong, deep, harsh + tones of his voice so completely startled her, that she almost believed + she was on the breast of her father. Her tears flowed; but they were + mingled with a sense of disappointment that amounted almost to bitterness. + </p> + <p> + Tom on this occasion forebore to enact the rehearsal scene, as he had done + in the case of his father. His sister's beauty, at once melancholy but + commanding, her wonderful grace, her dignity of manner, added to the + influence of her tall, elegant figure, awed him so completely, that he + felt himself incapable of aiming at anything like dramatic effect. Nay, as + her warm tears fell upon his face, he experienced a softening influence + that resembled emotion, but, like his father, he annexed associations to + it that were selfish, and full of low, ungenerous caution. + </p> + <p> + “My father's right,” thought he; “I must be both cool and firm here, + otherwise it will be difficult not to support her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lucy,” said her father, with unusual cheerfulness, after Tom had + handed her to a seat, “I hope you like your brother. Is he not a fine, + manly young fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Is he not my brother, papa?” she replied, “restored to us after so many + years; restored when hope had deserted us—when we had given him up + for lost.” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered the words her voice quivered; a generous reaction had taken + place in her breast; she blamed herself for having withheld from him, on + account of a circumstance over which he had no control, that fulness of + affection, with which she had prepared herself to welcome him. A + sentiment, first of compassion, then of self-reproach, and ultimately of + awakened affection, arose in her mind, associated with and made still more + tender by the melancholy memory of her departed mother. She again took his + hand, on which the tears now fell in showers, and after a slight pause + said, + </p> + <p> + “I hope, my dear Thomas, you have not suffered, nor been subject to the + wants and privations which usually attend the path of the young and + friendless in this unhappy world? Alas, there is one voice—but is + now forever still—that would, oh, how rapturously! have welcomed you + to a longing and a loving heart.” + </p> + <p> + The noble sincerity of her present emotion was not without its effect upon + her brother. His eyes, in spite of the hardness of his nature, swam in + something like moisture, and he gazed upon her with wonder and pride, that + he actually was the brother of so divine a creature; and a certain + description of affection, such as he had never before felt, for it was + pure, warm, and unselfish. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how I do long to hear the history of your past life!” she exclaimed. + “I dare say you had many an early struggle to encounter; many a privation + to suffer; and in sickness, with none but the cold hand of the stranger + about you; but still it seems that God has not deserted you. Is it not a + consolation, papa, to think that he returns to us in a condition of life + so gratifying?” + </p> + <p> + “Gratifying it unquestionably is, Lucy. He is well educated; and will soon + be fit to take his proper position in society.” + </p> + <p> + “Soon! I trust immediately, papa; I hope you will not allow him to remain + a moment longer in obscurity; compensate him at least for his sufferings. + But, my dear Thomas,” she proceeded, turning to him, “let me ask, do you + remember mamma? If she were now here, how her affectionate heart would + rejoice! Do you remember her my dear Thomas?” + </p> + <p> + “Not distinctly,” he replied; “something of a pale, handsome woman comes + occasionally like a dream of my childhood to my imagination—a + graceful woman, with auburn hair, and a melancholy look, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “You—do,” replied Lucy, as her eyes sparkled, “you do remember her; + that is exactly a sketch of her—gentle, benignant, and affectionate, + with a fixed sorrow mingled with resignation in her face. Yes, you + remember her!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Lucy,” said her father, who never could bear any particular allusion + to his wife; “now that you have seen your brother, I think you may + withdraw, at least for the present. He and I have matters of importance to + talk of; and you know you will have enough of him again—plenty of + time to hear his past history, which, by the way, I am as anxious to hear + as you are. You may now withdraw, my love.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not so soon, father, if you please,” said Thomas; “allow us a little + more time together.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, a few minutes only, for I myself must take an airing in the + carriage, and I must also call upon old Cullamore.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Lucy, “I am about to disclose a little secret to you which I + hesitated to do before, but this certainly is a proper occasion for doing + it; the secret I speak of will disclose itself. Here is where it lay both + day and night since mamma's death,” she added, putting her hand upon her + heart; “it is a miniature portrait of her which I myself got done.” + </p> + <p> + She immediately drew it up by a black silk ribbon, and after contemplating + it with tears, she placed it in the hands of her brother. + </p> + <p> + This act of Lucy's placed him in a position of great pain and + embarrassment. His pretended recollection of Lady Gourlay was, as the + reader already guesses, nothing more than the description of her which he + had received from Corbet, that he might be able to play his part with an + appearance of more natural effect. With the baronet, the task of deception + was by no means difficult; but with Lucy, the case was altogether one of a + different complexion. His father's principles, as expounded by his + illegitimate son's worthy uncle, were not only almost familiar to him, but + also in complete accordance with his own. With him, therefore, the + deception consisted in little else than keeping his own secret, and + satisfying his father that their moral views of life were the same. He was + not prepared, however, for the effect which Lucy's noble qualities + produced upon him so soon. To him who had never met with or known any + other female, combining in her own person such extraordinary beauty and + dignity—such obvious candor of heart—such graceful and + irresistible simplicity, or who was encompassed by an atmosphere of such + truth and purity—the effect was such as absolutely confounded + himself, and taught him to feel how far they go in purifying, elevating, + and refining those who come within the sphere of their influence. This + young man, for instance, was touched, softened, and awed into such an + involuntary respect for her character and virtues, that he felt himself + almost unable to sustain the part he had undertaken to play, so far at + least as she was concerned. In fact, he felt himself changed for the + better, and was forced, as it were, to look in upon his own heart, and + contemplate its deformity by the light that emanated from her character. + Nor was this singular but natural influence unperceived by her father, who + began to fear that if they were to be much together, he must ultimately + lose the connivance and support of his son. + </p> + <p> + Thomas took the portrait from her hand, and, after contemplating it for + some time, felt himself bound to kiss it, which he did, with a momentary + consciousness of his hypocrisy that felt like guilt. + </p> + <p> + “It is most interesting,” said he; “there is goodness, indeed, and + benignity, as you say, in every line of that placid but sorrowful face. + Here,” said he, “take it back, my dear sister; I feel that it is painful + to me to look upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “It has been my secret companion,” said Lucy, gazing at it with deep + emotion, “and my silent monitress ever since poor mamma's death. It seemed + to say to me with those sweet lips that will never more move: Be patient, + my child, and put your firm trust in the hopes of a better life, for this + world is one of trial and suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all very fine, Lucy,” said her father, somewhat fretfully; “but + it would have been as well if she had preached a lesson of obedience at + the same time. However, you had better withdraw, my dear; as I told you, + Thomas and I have many important matters to talk over.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to go, papa,” she replied; “but, by the way, my dear Thomas, I + had always heard that you resembled her very much; instead of that, you + are papa's very image.” + </p> + <p> + “A circumstance which will take from his favor with you, Lucy, I fear,” + observed her father; “but, indeed, I myself am surprised at the change + that has come over you, Thomas; for, unquestionably, when young you were + very like her.” + </p> + <p> + “These changes are not at all unfrequent, I believe,” replied his son. “I + have myself known instances where the individual when young resembled one + parent, and yet, in the course of time, became as it were the very image + and reflex of the other.” + </p> + <p> + “You are perfectly right, Tom,” said his father; “every family is aware of + the fact, and you yourself are a remarkable illustration of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sorry for resembling my dear father, Lucy,” observed her + brother; “and I know I shall lose nothing in your good will on that + account, but rather gain by it.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's eyes were already filled with tears at the ungenerous and unfeeling + insinuation of her father. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not, indeed, Thomas,” she replied; “and you, papa, are scarcely + just to me in saying so. I judge no person by their external appearance, + nor do I suffer myself to be prejudiced by looks, although I grant that + the face is very often, but by no means always, an index to the character. + I judge my friends by my experience of their conduct—by their heart—their + principles—their honor. Good-by, now, my dear brother; I am quite + impatient to hear your history, and I am sure you will gratify me as soon + as you can.” + </p> + <p> + She took his hand and kissed it, but, in the act of doing so, observed + under every nail a semicircular line of black drift that jarred very + painfully on her feelings. Tom then imprinted a kiss upon her forehead, + and she withdrew. + </p> + <p> + When she had gone out, the baronet bent his eyes upon her brother with a + look that seemed to enter into his very soul—a look which his son, + from his frequent teachings, very well understood. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tom,” said he, “that you have seen your sister, what do you think of + her? Is it not a pity that she should ever move under the rank of a + countess?” + </p> + <p> + “Under the rank of a queen, sir. She would grace the throne of an + empress.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet she has all the simplicity of a child; but I can't get her to + feel ambition. Now, mark me, Tom; I have seen enough in this short + interview to convince me that if you are not as firm as a rock, she will + gain you over.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, sir; I love her too well to lend myself to her prejudices + against her interests. Her objections to this marriage must proceed solely + from inexperience. It is true, Lord Dunroe bears a very indifferent + character, and if you could get any other nobleman with a better one as a + husband for her, it would certainly be more agreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “It might, Tom; but I cannot. The truth is, I am an unpopular man among + even the fashionable circles, and the consequence is, that I do not mingle + much with them. The disappearance of my brother's heir has attached + suspicions to me which your discovery will not tend to remove. Then there + is Lucy's approaching marriage, which your turning up at this particular + juncture may upset. Dunroe, I am aware, is incapable of appreciating such + a girl as Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why, sir, does he marry her?” + </p> + <p> + “In consequence of her property. You perceive, then, that unless you lie + by until after this marriage, my whole schemes for this girl may be + destroyed.” + </p> + <p> + “But how, sir, could my appearance or reappearance effect such a + catastrophe?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply because you come at the most unlucky moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Unlucky, sir!” exclaimed the youth, with much affected astonishment, for + he had now relapsed into his original character, and felt himself + completely in his element. + </p> + <p> + “Don't misunderstand me,” said his father; “I will explain myself. Had you + never appeared, Lucy would have inherited the family estates, which, in + right of his wife, would have passed into the possession of Dunroe. Your + appearance, however, if made known, will prevent that, and probably cause + Dunroe to get out of it; and it is for this reason that I wish to keep + your very existence a secret until the marriage is over.” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing to do anything, sir,” replied worthy Tom, with a very + dutiful face, “anything to oblige you, and to fall in with your purposes, + provided my own rights are not compromised. I trust you will not blame me, + sir, for looking to them, and for a natural anxiety to sustain the honor + and prolong the name of my family.” + </p> + <p> + “Blame you, sirrah!” said his father, laughing. “Confound me, but you're a + trump, and I am proud to hear you express such sentiments. How the deuce + did you get such a shrewd notion of the world? But, no matter, attend to + me. Your rights shall not be compromised. A clause shall be inserted in + the marriage articles to the effect that in case of your recovery and + restoration, the estates shall revert to you, as the legitimate heir. Are + you satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, sir,” replied Thomas, “perfectly; on the understanding that + these provisions are duly and properly carried out.” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly they shall; and besides,” replied his father with a grin of + triumph, “it will be only giving Dunroe a <i>quid pro quo</i>, for, as I + told you, he is marrying your sister merely for the property, out of which + you cut him.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, my dear father,” replied the other, “I am in your hands; but, + in the meantime, how and where am I to dispose of myself?” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, keep your own secret—that is the principal + point—in which case you may live wherever you wish; I will give you + a liberal allowance until you can make your appearance with safety to + Lucy's prosperity. The marriage will take place very soon; after which you + can come and claim your own, when it will be too late for Dunroe to + retract. Here, for the present, is a check for two hundred and fifty; but, + Tom, you must be frugal and cautious in its expenditure. Don't suffer + yourself to break out: always keep a firm hold of the helm. Get a book in + which you will mark down your expenses; for, mark me, you must render a + strict account of this money. On the day after to-morrow you must dine + with Lucy and me; but, if you take my advice, you will see her as seldom + as possible until after her marriage. She wishes me to release her from + her engagement, and she will attempt to seduce you to her side; but I warn + you that this would be a useless step for you to take, as my mind is + immovable on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + They then separated, each, but especially Mr. Ambrose Gray, as we must + again call him, feeling very well satisfied with the result of the + interview. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the baronet, as he paced the floor, after his son had gone, + “am I not right, after all, in the views which I entertain of life? I have + sometimes been induced to fear that Providence has placed in human society + a moral machinery which acts with retributive effect upon those who, in + the practice of their lives, depart from what are considered his laws. And + yet here am I, whose whole life has been at variance with and disregarded + them—here I am, I say, with an easier heart than I've had for many a + day: my son restored to me—my daughter upon the point of being + married according to my highest wishes—all my projects prospering; + and there is my brother's wife—wretched Lady Gourlay—who, + forsooth, is religious, benevolent, humane, and charitable—ay, and + if report speak true, who loves her fellow-creatures as much as I scorn + and detest them. Yes—and what is the upshot? Why, that all these + virtues have not made her one whit happier than another, nor so happy as + one in ten thousand. <i>Cui bono</i>, then I ask—where is this moral + machinery which I sometimes dreaded? I cannot perceive its operations. It + has no existence; it is a mere chimera; like many another bugbear, the + foul offspring of credulity and fear on the one side—of superstition + and hypocrisy on the other. No; life is merely a thing of chances, and its + incidents the mere combinations that result from its evolutions, just like + the bits of glass in the kaleidoscope, which, when viewed naked, have + neither order nor beauty, but when seen through our own mistaken + impressions, appear to have properties which they do not possess, and to + produce results that are deceptive, and which would mislead us if we drew + any absolute inference from them. Here the priest advances, kaleidoscope + in hand, and desires you to look at his tinsel and observe its order. + Well, you do so, and imagine that the beauty and order you see lie in the + things themselves, and not in the prism through which you view them. But + you are not satisfied—you must examine. You take the kaleidoscope to + pieces, and where then are the order and beauty to be found? Away! I am + right still. The doctrine of life is a doctrine of chances; and there is + nothing certain but death—death, the gloomy and terrible uncreator—heigho!” + </p> + <p> + Whilst the unbelieving baronet was congratulating himself upon the truth + of his principles and the success of his plans, matters were about to take + place that were soon to subject them to a still more efficient test than + the accommodating but deceptive spirit of his own scepticism. Lord + Cullamore's mind was gradually sinking under some secret sorrow or + calamity, which he refused to disclose even to his son or Lady Emily. + M'Bride's visit had produced a most melancholy effect upon him; indeed, so + deeply was he weighed down by it, that he was almost incapable of seeing + any one, with the exception of his daughter, whom he caressed and wept + over as one would over some beloved being whom death was about to snatch + from the heart and eyes forever. + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay, since the discovery of his son, called every day for a + week, but the reply was, “His lordship is unable to see any one.” + </p> + <p> + One evening, about that time, Ginty Cooper had been to see her brother, + Tom Corbet, at the baronet's, and was on her way home, when she + accidentally spied M'Bride in conversation with Norton, at Lord + Cullamore's hall-door, which, on her way to Sir Thomas's, she necessarily + passed. It was just about dusk, or, as they call it in the country, + between the two lights, and as the darkness was every moment deepening, + she resolved to watch them, for the purpose of tracing M'Bride home to his + lodgings. They, in the meantime, proceeded to a public-house in the + vicinity, into which both entered, and having ensconced themselves in a + little back closet off the common tap-room, took their seats at a small + round table, Norton having previously ordered some punch. Giuty felt + rather disappointed at this caution, but in a few minutes a red-faced + girl, with a blowzy head of hair strong as wire, and crisped into small + obstinate undulations of surface which neither comb nor coaxing could + smooth away, soon followed them with the punch and a candle. By the light + of the latter, Ginty perceived that there was nothing between them but a + thin partition of boards, through the slits of which she could, by + applying her eye or ear, as the case might be, both see and hear them. The + tap-room at the time was empty, and Ginty, lest her voice might be heard, + went to the bar, from whence she herself brought in a glass of porter, and + having taken her seat close to the partition, overheard the following + conversation: + </p> + <p> + “In half an hour he's to see you, then?” said Norton, repeating the words + with a face of inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” he continued, “I assure you I'm neither curious nor + inquisitive; yet, unless it be a very profound secret indeed, I give my + honor I should wish to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “There's others in your family would be glad to hear it as well as you,” + replied M'Bride. + </p> + <p> + “The earl has seen you once or twice before on the subject, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “He has, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “And this is the third time, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be the third time, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, man,” said Norton, “take your punch; put yourself in spirits for + the interview. It requires a man to pluck up to be able to speak to a + nobleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I have spoken to as good as ever he was; not that I say anything to his + lordship's disparagement,” replied M'Bride; “but I'll take the punch for a + better reason—because I I have a fellow feeling for it. And yet it + was my destruction, too; however, it can't be helped. Yes, faith, it made + me an ungrateful scoundrel; but, no matter!—sir, here's your health! + I must only, as they say, make the best of a bad bargain—must bring + my cattle to the best market.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Norton, dryly and significantly; “and so you think the old + earl, the respectable old nobleman, is your best chapman? Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “I may go that far, any way,” replied the fellow, with a knowing grin; + “but I don't lave you much the wiser.” + </p> + <p> + “No, faith, you don't,” replied Norton, grinning in his turn. “However, + listen to me. Do you not think, now, that if you placed your case in the + hands of some one that stands well with his lordship, and who could use + his influence in your behalf, you might have better success?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm the best judge of that myself,” replied M'Bride. “As it is, I have, + or can have, two strings to my bow. I have only to go to a certain person, + and say I'm sorry for what I've done, and I've no doubt but I'd come well + off.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and why don't you? If I were in your case, I'd consider myself + first, though.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” replied the other, as if undecided. “I think, afther all, + I'm in better hands. Unless Lord Cullamore is doting, I'm sure of that + fact. I don't intend to remain in this counthry. I'll go back to France or + to America; I can't yet say which.” + </p> + <p> + “Take your punch in the meantime; take off your liquor, I say, and it'll + clear your head. Come, off with it. I don't know why, but I have taken a + fancy to you. Your face is an honest one, and if I knew what your business + with his lordship is, I'd give you a lift.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” replied the other; “but the truth is, I'm afeard to take + much till after I see him. I must have all my wits about me, and keep + myself steady.” + </p> + <p> + “Do put it in my power to serve you. Tell me what your business is, and, + by the honor of my name, I'll assist you.” + </p> + <p> + “At present,” replied M'Bride, “I can't; but if I could meet you after I + see his lordship, I don't say but we might talk more about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied Norton; “you won't regret it. In the course of a + short time I shall have the complete management of the whole Cullamore + property; and who can say that, if you put confidence in me now, I may not + have it in my power to employ you beneficially for yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Come then, sir,” replied M'Bride, “let me have another tumbler, on the + head of it. I think one more will do me no harm; as you say, sir, it'll + clear my head.” + </p> + <p> + This was accordingly produced, and M'Bride began to become, if not more + communicative, at least more loquacious, and seemed disposed to place + confidence in Norton, to whom, however, he communicated nothing of + substantial importance. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said the latter, “if I don't mistake, that I am acquainted with + some of your relations.” + </p> + <p> + “That may easily be,” replied the other; “and it has struck me two or + three times that I have seen your face before, but I can't tell where.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” replied Norton; “but 111 tell you what, we must get better + acquainted. Are you in any employment at present?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm doing nothing,” said the other; “and the few pounds I had are now + gone to a few shillings; so that by to-morrow or next day, I'll be forced + to give my teeth a holiday.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” replied Norton, “that's too bad. Here's a pound note for + you, at all events. Not a word now; if we can understand each other you + sha'n't want; and I'll tell you what you'll do. After leaving his lordship + you must come to my room, where you can have punch to the eyes, and there + will be no interruption to our chat. You can then tell me anything you + like; but it must come willingly, for I'd scorn to force a secret from any + man—that is, if it is a secret. Do you agree to this?” + </p> + <p> + “I agree to it, and many thanks, worthy sir,” replied M'Bride, putting the + pound note in his pocket; after which they chatted upon indifferent + matters until the period for his interview with Lord Cullamore had + arrived. + </p> + <p> + Ginty, who had not lost a syllable of this dialogue, to whom, as the + reader perhaps may suspect, it was no novelty, followed them at a safe + distance, until she saw them enter the house. The interest, however, which + she felt in M'Bride's movements, prevented her from going home, or + allowing him to slip through her finger without accomplishing a project + that she had for some time before meditated, but had hitherto found no + opportunity to execute. + </p> + <p> + Lord Cullamore, on M'Bride's entrance, was in much the same state which we + have already described, except that in bodily appearance he was somewhat + more emaciated and feeble. There was, however, visible in his features a + tone of solemn feeling, elevated but sorrowful, that seemed to bespeak a + heart at once resigned and suffering, and disposed to receive the + dispensations of life as a man would whose philosophy was softened by a + Christian spirit. In the general plan of life he clearly recognized the + wisdom which, for the example and the benefit of all, runs with singular + beauty through the infinite combinations of human action, verifying the + very theory which the baronet saw dimly, but doubted; we mean that + harmonious adaptation of moral justice to those actions by which the + original principles that diffuse happiness through social life are + disregarded and violated. The very order that characterizes all creation, + taught him that we are not here without a purpose, and when human nature + failed to satisfy him upon the mystery of life, he went to revelation, and + found the problem solved. The consequence was, that whilst he felt as a + man, he endured as a Christian—aware that this life is, for purposes + which we cannot question, chequered with evils that teach us the absolute + necessity of another, and make us, in the meantime, docile and submissive + to the will of him who called us into being. + </p> + <p> + His lordship had been reading the Bible as M'Bride entered, and, after + having closed it, and placed his spectacles between the leaves as a mark, + he motioned the man to come forward. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “have you brought those documents with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said he, “allow me to see them.” + </p> + <p> + M'Bride hesitated; being a knave himself, he naturally suspected every + other man of trick and dishonesty; and yet, when he looked upon the mild + but dignified countenance of the old man, made reverend by age and + suffering, he had not the courage to give any intimation of the base + suspicions he entertained. + </p> + <p> + “Place the papers before me, sir,” said his lordship, somewhat sharply. + “What opinion can I form of their value without having first inspected and + examined them?” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he took the spectacles from out the Bible, and settled them on + his face. + </p> + <p> + “I know, my lord,” replied M'Bride, taking them out of a pocket-book + rather the worse for wear, “that I am placing them in the hands of an + honorable man.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship took them without seeming to have heard this observation; and + as he held them up, M'Bride could perceive that a painful change came over + him. He became ghastly pale, and his hands trembled so violently, that he + was unable to read their contents until he placed them flat upon the table + before him. At length, after having read and examined them closely, and + evidently so as to satisfy himself of their authenticity, he turned round + to M'Bride, and said, “Is any person aware that you are in possession of + these documents?” + </p> + <p> + “Aha,” thought the fellow, “there's an old knave for you. He would give a + round sum that they were in ashes, I'll engage; but I'll make him shell + out for all that.—I don't think there is, my lord, unless the + gentleman—your lordship knows who I mean—that I took them + from.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you take them deliberately from him?” + </p> + <p> + The man stood uncertain for a moment, and thought that the best thing he + could do was to make a merit of the affair, by affecting a strong + disposition to serve his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, my lord, I was in his confidence, and as I heard how + matters stood, I thought it a pity that your lordship should be annoyed at + your time of life, and I took it into my head to place them in your + lordship's hands.” + </p> + <p> + “These are genuine documents,” observed his lordship, looking at them + again. “I remember the handwriting distinctly, and have in my possession + some letters written by the same individual. Was your master a kind one?” + </p> + <p> + “Both kind and generous, my lord; and I have no doubt at all but he'd + forgive me everything, and advance a large sum besides, in order to get + these two little papers back. Your lordship knows he can do nothing + against you without them; and I hope you'll consider that, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he voluntarily, that is, willingly, and of his own accord, admit you + to his confidence? and, if so, upon what grounds?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my lord, my wife and I were servants to his father for years, and + he, when a slip of a boy, was very fond of me. When he came over here, my + lord, it was rather against his will, and not at all for his own sake. So, + as he knew that he'd require some one in this country that could act + prudently for him, he made up his mind to take me with him, especially as + my wife and myself were both anxious to come back to our own country. 'I + must trust some one, M'Bride,' said he, 'and I will trust you'; and then + he tould me the raison of his journey here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied his lordship, “proceed; have you anything more to add!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my lord, but what I've tould you. I thought it a pitiful case to + see a nobleman at your time of life afflicted by the steps he was about to + take, and I brought these papers accordingly to your lordship. I hope + you'll not forget that, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “What value do you place on these two documents?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I think a thousand pounds, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, your estimate is a very low one—ten thousand would come + somewhat nearer the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I can only say,” said M'Bride, “that I'm willin' to take a + thousand; but, if your lordship, knowin' the value of the papers as you + do, chooses to add anything more, I'll be very happy to accept it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have another question to ask you, sir,” said his lordship, “which I do + with great pain, as I do assure you that this is as painful a dialogue as + I ever held in my life. Do you think now, that, provided you had not taken—that + is, stolen-these papers from your master, he would, upon the success of + the steps he is taking, have given you a thousand pounds?” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated, as if he had caught a glimpse of the old man's object + in putting the question. “Why—hem—no; I don't think I could + expect that, my lord; but a handsome present, I dare say, I might come in + for.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Cullamore raised himself in his chair, and after looking at the + treacherous villain with a calm feeling of scorn and indignation, to which + his illness imparted a solemn and lofty severity, that made M'Bride feel + as if he wished to sink through the floor, + </p> + <p> + “Go,” said he, looking at him with an eye that was kindled into something + of its former fire. “Begone, sir: take away your papers; I will not—I + cannot enter into any compact with an ungrateful and perfidious villain + like you. These papers have come into your hands by robbery or theft—that + is sufficient; there they are, sir—take them away. I shall defend + myself and my rights upon principles of justice, but never shall stoop to + support them by dishonor.” + </p> + <p> + On concluding, he flung them across the table with a degree of energy that + surprised M'Bride, whilst his color,hitherto so pale, was heightened by a + flash of that high feeling and untarnished integrity which are seldom so + beautifully impressive as when exhibited in the honorable indignation of + old age. It might have been compared to that pale but angry red of the + winter sky which flashes so transiently over the snow-clad earth, when the + sun, after the fatigues of his short but chilly journey, is about to sink + from our sight at the close of day. + </p> + <p> + M'Bride slunk out of the room crestfallen, disappointed, and abashed; but + on reaching the outside of the door he found Norton awaiting him. This + worthy gentleman, after beckoning to him to follow, having been striving, + with his whole soul centred in the key-hole, to hear the purport of their + conference, now proceeded to his own room, accompanied by M'Bride, where + we shall leave them without interruption to their conversation and + enjoyment, and return once more to Ginty Cooper. + </p> + <p> + Until the hour of half-past twelve that night Ginty most religiously kept + her watch convenient to the door. Just then it opened very quietly, and a + man staggered down the hall steps, and bent his course toward the northern + part of the city suburbs. A female might be observed to follow him at a + distance, and ever as he began to mutter his drunken meditations to + himself, she approached him more closely behind, in order, if possible, to + lose nothing of what he said. + </p> + <p> + “An ould fool,” he hiccupped, “to throw them back to me—hie—an' + the other a kna-a-ve to want to—to look at them; but I was up—up; + if the young-oung L-lor-ord will buy them, he mu-must-ust pay for them, + for I hav-ave them safe. Hang it, my head's turn-turn-turnin' about like + the—” + </p> + <p> + At this portion of his reflections he turned into a low, dark line of + cabins, some inhabited, and others ruined and waste, followed by the + female in question; and if the reader cannot ascertain her object in + dogging him, he must expect no assistance in guessing it from us. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. Lucy's Vain but Affecting Expostulation with her Father + </h2> + <h3> + —Her Terrible Denunciation of Ambrose Gray. + </h3> + <p> + The next morning, after breakfast, Lord Dunroe found Norton and M'Bride in + the stable yard, when the following conversation took place. + </p> + <p> + “Norton,” said his lordship, “I can't understand what they mean by the + postponement of this trial about the mare. I fear they will beat us, and + in that case it is better, perhaps, to compromise it. You know that that + attorney fellow Birney is engaged against us, and by all accounts he has + his wits about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord; but Birney is leaving home, going to France, and they have + succeeded in getting it postponed until the next term. My lord, this is + the man, M'Bride, that I told you of this morning. M'Bride, have you + brought those documents with you? I wish to show them to his lordship, + who, I think, you will find a more liberal purchaser than his father.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that you said, sir,” asked M'Bride, with an appearance of deep + interest, “about Mr. Birney going to France?” + </p> + <p> + “This is no place to talk about these matters,” said his lordship; “bring + the man up to your own room, Norton, and I will join you there. The thing, + however, is a mere farce, and my father a fool, or he would not give + himself any concern about it. Bring him to your room, where I will join + you presently. But, observe me, Norton, none of these tricks upon me in + future. You said you got only twenty-five for the mare, and now it appears + you got exactly double the sum. Now, upon my honor, I won't stand any more + of this.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord,” replied Norton, laughing, “don't you see how badly you + reason? I got fifty for the mare; of this I gave your lordship twenty-five—the + balance I kept myself. Of course, then, you can fairly say, or swear, if + you like, that she brought you in nothing but the fair value. In fact, I + kept you completely out of the transaction; but, after all, I only paid + myself for the twenty-five I won off you.” + </p> + <p> + Dunroe was by no means in anything like good-humor this morning. The hints + which Norton had communicated to him at breakfast, respecting the subject + of M'Bride's private interviews with his father, had filled him with more + alarm than he wished to acknowledge. Neither, on the other hand, had he + any serious apprehensions, for, unhappily for himself, he was one of those + easy and unreflecting men who seldom look beyond the present moment, and + can never be brought to a reasonable consideration of their own interests, + until, perhaps, it is too late to secure them. + </p> + <p> + All we can communicate to the reader with respect to the conference + between these three redoubtable individuals is simply its results. On that + evening Norton and M'Bride started for France, with what object will be + seen hereafter, Birney having followed on the same route the morning but + one afterwards, for the purpose of securing the documents in question. + </p> + <p> + Dunroe now more than ever felt the necessity of urging his marriage with + Lucy. He knew his father's honorable spirit too well to believe that he + would for one moment yield his consent to it under the circumstances which + were now pending. With the full knowledge of these circumstances he was + not acquainted. M'Bride had somewhat overstated the share of confidence to + which in this matter he had been admitted by his master. His information, + therefore, on the subject, was not so accurate as he wished, although, + from motives of dishonesty and a desire to sell his documents to the best + advantage, he made the most of the knowledge he possessed. Be this as it + may, Dunroe determined, as we said, to bring about the nuptials without + delay, and in this he was seconded by Sir Thomas Gourlay himself, who also + had his own motives for hastening them. In fact, here were two men, each + deliberately attempting to impose upon the other, and neither possessed of + one spark of honor or truth, although the transaction between them was one + of the most solemn importance that can occur in the great business of + life. The world, however, is filled with similar characters; and not all + the misery and calamity that ensue from such fraudulent and dishonest + practices will, we fear, ever prevent the selfish and ambitious from + pursuing the same courses. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas,” said Dunroe, in a conversation with the baronet held on the + very day after Norton and M'Bride had set out on their secret expedition, + “this marriage is unnecessarily delayed. I am anxious that it should take + place as soon as it possibly can.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” replied the baronet, “I have not been able to see your father on + the subject, in consequence of his illness.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary,” replied his lordship. “You know what kind of a man + he is. In fact, I fear he is very nearly <i>non compos</i> as it is. He + has got so confoundedly crotchety of late, that I should not feel + surprised if, under some whim or other, he set his face-against it + altogether. In fact, it is useless, and worse than useless, to consult him + at all about it. I move, therefore, that we go on without him.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are right,” returned the other; “and I have not the slightest + objection: name the day. The contract is drawn up, and only requires to be + signed.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say, on Monday next,” replied his lordship; “but I fear we will + have objections and protestations from Miss Gourlay; and if so, how are we + to manage?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave the management of Miss Gourlay to me, my lord,” replied her father. + “I have managed her before and shall manage her now.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship had scarcely gone, when Lucy was immediately sent for, and as + usual found her father in the library. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” said he, with as much blandness of manner as he could assume, “I + have sent for you to say that you are called upon to make your father + happy at last.” + </p> + <p> + “And myself wretched forever, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “But your word, Lucy—your promise—your honor: remember that + promise so solemnly given; remember, too, your duty of obedience as a + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I remember everything, papa; too keenly, too bitterly do I remember + all.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be prepared to marry Dunroe on Monday next. The affair will be + comparatively private. That is to say, we will ask nobody—no + dejeuner—no nonsense. The fewer the better at these matters. Would + you wish to see your brother—hem—I mean Mr. Gray?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy had been standing while he spoke; but she now staggered over to a + seat, on which she fell rather than sat. Her large, lucid eyes lost their + lustre; her frame quivered; her face became of an ashy paleness; but still + those eyes were bent upon her father. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” she said, at length, in a low voice that breathed of horror, “do + not kill me.” + </p> + <p> + “Kill you, foolish girl! Now really, Lucy, this is extremely ridiculous + and vexatious too. Is not my daughter a woman of honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” she said, solemnly, going down upon her two knees, and joining her + lovely and snowy hands together, in an attitude of the most earnest and + heart-rending supplication; “papa, hear me. You have said that I saved + your life; be now as generous as I was—save mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” he replied, “this looks like want of principle. You would violate + your promise. I should not wish Dunroe to hear this, or to know it. He + might begin to reason upon it, and to say that the woman who could + deliberately break a solemn promise might not hesitate at the marriage + vow. I do not apply this reasoning to you, but he or others might. Of + course, I expect that, as a woman of honor, you will keep your word with + me, and marry Dunroe on Monday. You will have no trouble—everything + shall be managed by them; a brilliant trousseau can be provided as well + afterwards as before.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy rose up; and as she did, the blood, which seemed to have previously + gathered, to her heart, now returned to her cheek, and began to mantle + upon it, whilst her figure, before submissive and imploring, dilated to + its full size. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, “since you will not hear the voice of supplication, + hear that of reason and truth. Do not entertain a doubt, no, not for a + moment, that if I am urged—driven—to this marriage, hateful + and utterly detestable to me as it is, I shall hesitate to marry this man. + I say this, however, because I tell you that I am about to appeal to your + interest in my true happiness for the last time. Is it, then, kind; is it + fatherly in you, sir, to exact from me the fulfilment of a promise given + under circumstances that ought to touch your heart into a generous + perception of the sacrifice which in giving it I made for your sake alone? + You were ill, and laboring under the apprehension of sudden death, + principally, you said, in consequence of my refusal to become the wife of + that man. I saw this; and although the effort was infinitely worse than + death to me, I did not hesitate one moment in yielding up what is at any + time dearer to me than life—my happiness—that you might be + spared. Alas, my dear father, if you knew how painful it is to me to be + forced to plead all this in my own defence, you would, you must, pity me. + A generous heart, almost under any circumstances, scorns to plead its own + acts, especially when they are on the side of virtue. But I, alas, am + forced to it; am forced to do that which I would otherwise scorn and blush + to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” replied her father, who felt in his ambitious and tyrannical soul + the full force, not only of what she said, but of the fraud he had + practised on her, but which she never suspected: “Lucy, my child, you will + drive me mad. Perhaps I am wrong; but at the same time my heart is so + completely fixed upon this marriage, that if it be not brought about I + feel I shall go insane. The value of life would be lost to me, and most + probably I shall die the dishonorable death of a suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you no fear for me, my father—no apprehension that I may + escape from this my wretched destiny to the peace of the grave? But you + need not. Thank God, I trust and feel that my regard for His precepts, and + my perceptions of His providence, are too clear and too firm ever to + suffer me to fly like a coward from the post in life which He has assigned + me. But why, dear father, should you make me the miserable victim of your + ambition?—I am not ambitious.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you are not: I never could get an honorable ambition instilled + into you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not mean, however—nay, I trust that I possess all that honest + and honorable pride which would prevent me from doing an unworthy act, or + one unbecoming either my sex or my position.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not break your word, for instance, nor render your father + wretched, insane, mad, or, perhaps, cause his dreadful malady to return. + No—no—but yet fine talking is a fine thing. Madam, cease to + plead your virtues to me, unless you prove that you possess them by + keeping your honorable engagement made to Lord Dunroe, through the sacred + medium of your own father. Whatever you may do, don't attempt to involve + me in your disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + “I am exhausted,” she said, “and cannot speak any longer; but I will not + despair of you, father. No, my dear papa,” she said, throwing her arms + about his neck, laying her head upon his bosom, and bursting into tears, + “I will not think that you could sacrifice your daughter. You will relent + for Lucy as Lucy did for you—but I feel weak. You know, papa, how + this fever on my spirits has worn me down; and, after all, the day might + come—and come with bitterness and remorse to your heart—when + you may be forced to feel that although you made your Lucy a countess she + did not remain a countess long.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean now?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see, papa, that my heart is breaking fast? If you will not hear + my words—if they cannot successfully plead for me—let my + declining health—let my pale and wasted cheek—let my want of + spirits, my want of appetite—and, above all, let that which you + cannot see nor feel—the sickness of my unhappy heart—plead for + me. Permit me to go, dear papa; and will you allow me to lean upon you to + my own room?—for, alas! I am not, after this painful excitement, + able to go there myself. Thank you, papa, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + He was thus compelled to give her his arm, and, in doing so, was surprised + to feel the extraordinary tremor by which her frame was shaken. On + reaching her room, she turned round, and laying her head, with an + affectionate and supplicating confidence, once more upon his breast, she + whispered with streaming eyes, “Alas! my dear papa, you forget, in urging + me to marry this hateful profligate, that my heart, my affections, my love—in + the fullest, and purest, and most disinterested sense—are + irrevocably fixed upon another; and Dunroe, all mean and unmanly as he is, + knows this.” + </p> + <p> + “He knows that—there, sit down—why do you tremble so?—Yes, + but he knows that what you consider an attachment is a mere girlish fancy, + a whimsical predilection that your own good-sense will show you the folly + of at a future time.” + </p> + <p> + “Recollect, papa, that he has been extravagant, and is said to be + embarrassed; the truth is, sir, that the man values not your daughter, but + the property to which he thinks he will become entitled, and which I have + no doubt will be very welcome to his necessities. I feel that I speak + truth, and as a test of his selfishness, it will be only necessary to + acquaint him with the reappearance of my brother—your son and heir—and + you will be no further troubled by his importunities.” + </p> + <p> + “Troubled by his importunity! Why, girl, it's I that am troubled with + apprehension lest he might discover the existence of your brother, and + draw off.” + </p> + <p> + One broad gaze of wonder and dismay she turned upon him, and her face + became crimsoned with shame. She then covered it with her open hands, and, + turning round, placed her head upon the end of the sofa, and moaned with a + deep and bursting anguish, on hearing this acknowledgment of deliberate + baseness from his own lips. + </p> + <p> + The baronet understood her feelings, and regretted the words he had + uttered, but he resolved to bear the matter out. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be surprised, Lucy,” he added, “nor alarmed at these sentiments; + for I tell you, that rather than be defeated in the object I propose for + your elevation in life, I would trample a thousand times upon all the + moral obligations that ever bound man. Put it down to what you like—insanity—monomania, + if you will—but so it is with me: I shall work my purpose out, or + either of us shall die for it; and from this you may perceive how likely + your resistance and obduracy are to become available against the + determination of such a man as I am. Compose yourself, girl, and don't be + a fool. The only way to get properly through life is to accommodate + ourselves to its necessities, or, in other words, to have shrewdness and + common sense, and foil the world, if we can, at its own weapons. Give up + your fine sentiment, I desire you, and go down to the drawing-room, to + receive your brother; hem will be here very soon. I am going to the + assizes, and shall not return till about four o'clock. Come, come, all + will end better than you imagine.” + </p> + <p> + The mention of her brother was anything but a comfort to Lucy. Her father + at first entertained apprehensions, as we have already said, that this + promising youth might support his sister in her aversion against the + marriage. Two or three conversations on the subject soon undeceived him, + however, in the view he had taken of his character; and Lucy herself now + dreaded him, on this subject, almost as much as she did her father. + </p> + <p> + With respect to this same brother, it is scarcely necessary now to say, + that Lucy's feelings had undergone a very considerable change. On hearing + that he not only was in existence, but that she would soon actually behold + him, her impassioned imagination painted him as she wished and hoped he + might prove to be—that is, in the first place—tall, elegant, + handsome, and with a strong likeness to the mother whom he had been said + so much to resemble; and, in the next—oh, how her trembling heart + yearned to find him affectionate, tender, generous, and full of all those + noble and manly virtues on which might rest a delightful sympathy, a pure + and generous affection, and a tender and trusting confidence between them. + On casting her eyes upon him for the first time, however, she felt at the + moment like one disenchanted, or awakening from some delightful illusion + to a reality so much at variance with the beau ideal of her imagination, + as to occasion a feeling of disappointment that amounted almost to pain. + There stood before her a young man, with a countenance so like her + father's, that the fact startled her. Still there was a difference, for—whether + from the consciousness of birth, or authority, or position in life—there + was something in her father's features that redeemed them from absolute + vulgarity. Here, however, although the resemblance was extraordinary, and + every feature almost identical, there might be read in the countenance of + her brother a low, commonplace expression, that looked as if it were + composed of effrontery, cunning, and profligacy. Lucy for a moment shrank + back from such a countenance, and the shock of disappointment chilled the + warmth with which she had been prepared to receive him. But, then, her + generous heart told her that she might probably be prejudging the innocent—that + neglect, want of education, the influence of the world, and, worst of all, + distress and suffering, might have caused the stronger, more vulgar, and + exceedingly disagreeable expression which she saw before her; and the + reader is already aware of the consequences which these struggles, at + their first interview, had upon her. Subsequently to that, however, Mr. + Ambrose, in supporting his father's views, advanced principles in such + complete accordance with them, as to excite in his sister's breast, first + a deep regret that she could not love him as she had hoped to do; then a + feeling stronger than indifference itself, and ultimately one little short + of aversion. Her father had been now gone about half an hour, and she + hoped that her brother might not come, when a servant came to say that Mr. + Gray was in the drawing-room, and requested to see her. + </p> + <p> + She felt that the interview would be a painful one to her; but still he + was her brother, and she knew she could not avoid seeing him. + </p> + <p> + After the first salutations were over, + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you, Lucy?” he asked; “you look ill and + distressed. I suppose the old subject of the marriage—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I trust it is one which you will not renew, Thomas. I entreat you to + spare me on it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am too much your friend to do so, Lucy. It is really inconceivable to + me why you should oppose it as you do. But the truth is, you don't know + the world, or you would think and act very differently.” + </p> + <p> + “Thomas,” she replied, whilst her eyes filled with tears, “I am almost + weary of life. There is not one living individual to whom I can turn for + sympathy or comfort. Papa has forbidden me to visit Lady Gourlay or Mrs. + Mainwaring; and I am now utterly friendless, with the exception of God + alone. But I will not despair—so long, at least, as reason is left + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, Lucy, you astonish me. To you, whose imagination is heated + with a foolish passion for an adventurer whom no one knows, all this + suffering may seem very distressing and romantic; but to me, to my father, + and to the world, it looks like great folly—excuse me, Lucy—or + rather like great weakness of character, grounded upon strong obstinacy of + disposition. Believe me, if the world were to know this you would be + laughed at; and there is scarcely a mother or daughter, from the cottage + to the castle, that would not say, 'Lucy Gourlay is a poor, inexperienced + fool, who thinks she can find a world of angels, and paragons, and purity + to live in.'” + </p> + <p> + “But I care not for the world, Thomas; it is not my idol—I do not + worship it, nor shall I ever do so. I wish to guide myself by the voice of + my own conscience, by a sense of what is right and proper, and by the + principles of Christian truth.” + </p> + <p> + “These doctrines, Lucy, are very well for the closet; but they will neyer + do in life, for which they are little short of a disqualification. Where, + for instance, will you find them acted on? Not by people of sense, I + assure you. Now listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Spare me, if you please, Thomas, the advocacy of such principles. You + occasion me great pain—not so much on my own account as on yours—you + alarm me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed, I tell you; but listen to me, as I said. Here, now, is + this marriage: you don't love this Dunroe—you dislike, you detest + him. Very well. What the deuce has that to do with the prospects of your + own elevation in life? Think for yourself—become the centre of your + own world; make this Dunroe your footstool—put him under your foot, + I say, and mount by him; get a position in the world—play your game + in it as you see others do; and—” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir,” said Lucy, scarcely restraining her indignation, “where, or + when, or how did you come by these odious and detestable doctrines?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, Lucy, from honest nature—from experience and observation. Is + there any man with a third idea, or that has the use of his eyes, who does + not know and see that this is the game of life? Dunroe, I dare say, + deserves your contempt; report goes, certainly, that he is a profligate; + but what ought especially to reconcile him to you is this simple fact—that + the man's a fool. Egad, I think that ought to satisfy you.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy rose up and went to the window, where she stood for some moments, her + eyes sparkling and scintillating, and her bosom heaving with a tide of + feelings which were repressed by a strong and exceedingly difficult + effort. She then returned to the sofa, her cheeks and temples in a blaze, + whilst ever and anon she eyed her brother as if from a new point of view, + or as if something sudden and exceedingly disagreeable had struck her. + </p> + <p> + “You look at me very closely, Lucy,” said he, with a confident grin. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she replied. “Proceed, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I will. Well, as I was saying, you will find it remarkably comfortable + and convenient in many ways to be married to a fool: he will give you very + little trouble; fools are never suspicious, but, on the contrary, + distinguished for an almost sublime credulity. Then, again, you love this + other gentleman; and, with a fool for your husband, and the example of the + world before you, what the deuce difficulty can you see in the match?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy rose up, and for a few moments the very force of her indignation kept + her silent; at length she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Villain—impostor—cheat! you stand there convicted of an + infamous attempt to impose yourself on me as my legitimate brother—on + my father as his legitimate son; but know that I disclaim you, sir. What! + the fine and gentle blood of my blessed mother to flow in the veins of the + profligate monster who could give utterance to principles worthy of hell + itself, and attempt to pour them into the ears and heart of his own + sister! Sir, I feel, and I thank God for it, that you are not the son of + my blessed mother—no; but you stand there a false and spurious + knave, the dishonest instrument of some fraudulent conspiracy, concocted + for the purpose of putting you into a position of inheriting a name and + property to which you have no claim. I ought, on the moment I first saw + you, to have been guided by the instincts of my own heart, which prompted + me to recoil from and disclaim you. I know not, nor do I wish to know, in + what low haunts of vice and infamy you have been bred; but one thing is + certain, that, if it be within the limits of my power, you shall be traced + and unmasked. I now remember me that—that—there existed an + early scandal—yes, sir, I remember it, but I cannot even repeat it; + be assured, however, that this inhuman and devilish attempt to poison my + principles will prove the source of a retributive judgment on your head. + Begone, sir, and leave the house!” + </p> + <p> + The pallor of detected guilt, the consciousness that in this iniquitous + lecture he had overshot the mark, and made a grievous miscalculation in + pushing his detestable argument too far—but, above all, the + startling suspicions so boldly and energetically expressed by Lucy, the + truth of which, as well as the apprehensions that filled him of their + discovery, all united, made him feel as if he stood on the brink of a mine + to which the train had been already applied. And yet, notwithstanding all + this, such was the natural force of his effrontery—such the vulgar + insolence and bitter disposition of his nature, that, instead of soothing + her insulted feelings, or offering either explanation or apology, he could + not restrain an impudent exhibition of ill-temper. + </p> + <p> + “You forget yourself, Lucy,” he replied; “you have no authority to order + me out of this house, in which I stand much firmer than yourself. Neither + do I comprehend your allusions, nor regard your threats. The proofs of my + identity and legitimacy are abundant and irresistible. As to the advice I + gave you, I gave it like one who knows the world—” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” she replied, indignantly; “you gave it like a man who knows + only its vices. It is sickening to hear every profligate quote his own + experience of life, as if it were composed of nothing but crimes and + vices, simply because they constitute the guilty phase of it with which he + is acquainted. But the world, sir, is not the scene of general depravity + which these persons would present it. No: it is full of great virtues, + noble actions, high principles; and, what is better still, of true + religion and elevated humanity. What right, then, sir, have you to libel a + world which you do not understand? You are merely a portion of its dregs, + and I would as soon receive lessons in honesty from a thief as principles + for my guidance in it from you. As for me, I shall disregard the proofs of + your identity and legitimacy, which, however, must be produced and + investigated; for, from this moment, establish them as you may, I shall + never recognize you as a brother, as an acquaintance, as a man, nor as + anything but a selfish and abandoned villain, who would have corrupted the + principles of his sister.” + </p> + <p> + Without another word, or the slightest token of respect or courtesy, she + deliberately, and with an air of indignant scorn, walked out of the + drawing-room, leaving Mr. Ambrose Gray in a position which we dare say + nobody will envy him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. Contains a Variety of Matters + </h2> + <h3> + —Some to Laugh and some to Weep at. + </h3> + <p> + Our readers may have observed that Sir Thomas Gourlay led a secluded life + ever since the commencement of our narrative. The fact was, and he felt it + deeply, that he had long been an unpopular man. That he was a bad, + overbearing husband, too, had been well known, for such was the violence + of his temper, and the unvaried harshness of his disposition toward his + wife, that the general tenor of his conduct, so far even as she was + concerned, could not be concealed. His observations on life and personal + character were also so cynical and severe, not to say unjust, that his + society was absolutely avoided, unless by some few of his own disposition. + And yet nothing could be more remarkable than the contrast that existed + between his principles and conduct in many points, thus affording, as they + did, an involuntary acknowledgment of his moral errors. + </p> + <p> + He would not, for instance, admit his sceptical friends, who laughed at + the existence of virtue and religion, to the society of his daughter, with + the exception of Lord Dunroe, to whose vices his unaccountable ambition + for her elevation completely blinded him. Neither did he wish her to + mingle much with the world, from a latent apprehension that she might tind + it a different thing from what he himself represented it to be; and + perhaps might learn there the low estimate which it had formed of her + future husband. Like most misanthropical men, therefore, whose hatred of + life is derived principally from that uneasiness of conscience which + proceeds from their own vices, he kept aloof from society as far as the + necessities of his position allowed him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mainwaring had called upon him several times with an intention of + making some communication which she trusted would have had the effect of + opening his eyes to the danger into which he was about to precipitate his + daughter by her contemplated! marriage with Dunroe. He uniformly refused, + however, to see her, or to allow her any opportunity of introducing the + subject. Finding herself deliberately and studiously repulsed, this good + lady, who still occasionally corresponded with Lucy, came to the + resolution of writing to him on the subject, and, accordingly, Gibson, one + morning, with his usual cool and deferential manner, presented him with + the following letter: + </p> + <p> + “SUMMERFIELD COTTAGE. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—I should feel myself utterly unworthy of the good opinion + which I trust I am honored with by your admirable daughter, were I any + longer to remain silent upon a subject of the deepest importance to her + future happiness. I understand that she is almost immediately about to + become the wife of Lord Dunroe. Now, sir, I entreat your most serious + attention; and I am certain, if you will only bestow it upon the few words + I am about to write, that you, and especially Miss Gourlay, will live to + thank God that I interposed to prevent this unhallowed union. I say then, + emphatically, as I shall be able to prove most distinctly, that if you + permit Miss Gourlay to become the wife of this young nobleman you will + seal her ruin—defeat the chief object which you cherish, for her in + life, and live to curse the day on which you urged it on. The + communications which I have to make are of too much importance to be + committed to paper; but if you will only allow me, and I once more implore + it for the sake of your child, as well as for your own future ease of + mind, the privilege of a short interview, I shall completely satisfy you + as to the truth of what I state. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honor to be, sir, + </p> + <p> + “Your obliged and obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “Martha Mainwaring.” + </p> + <p> + Having perused the first sentence of this earnest and friendly letter, Sir + Thomas indignantly flung it into a drawer where he kept all communications + to which it did not please him at the moment to pay particular attention. + </p> + <p> + Lucy's health in the meantime was fast breaking: but so delicate and true + was her sense of honor and duty that she would have looked upon any + clandestine communication with her lover as an infraction of the solemn + engagement into which she had entered for her father's sake,—and by + which, even at the expense of her own happiness, she considered herself + bound. Still, she felt that a communication on the subject was due to him, + and her principal hope now was that her father would allow her to make it. + If he, however, refused this sanction to an act of common justice, then + she resolved to write to him openly, and make the wretched circumstances + in which she was involved, and the eternal barrier that had been placed + between them, known to him at once. + </p> + <p> + Her father, however, now found, to his utter mortification, that he was + driving matters somewhat too fast, and that his daughter's health must + unquestionably be restored before he could think of outraging humanity and + public decency by forcing her from the sick bed to the altar. + </p> + <p> + After leaving her brother on the occasion of their last remarkable + interview, she retired to her room so full of wretchedness, indignation, + and despair of all human aid or sympathy, that she scarcely knew whether + their conversation was a dream or a reality. Above all things, the shock + she received through her whole moral system, delicately and finely + tempered as it was, so completely prostrated her physical strength, and + estranged all the virtuous instincts of her noble nature, that it was with + difficulty she reached her own room. When there, she immediately rang for + her maid, who at once perceived by the indignant sparkle of her eye, the + heightened color of her cheek, and the energetic agitation of her voice, + that something exceedingly unpleasant had occurred. + </p> + <p> + “My gracious, miss,” she exclaimed, “what has happened? You look so + disturbed! Something, or somebody, has offended you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am disturbed, Alice,” she replied, “I am disturbed; come and lend me + your arm; my knees are trembling so that I cannot walk without assistance; + but must sit down for a moment. Indeed, I feel that my strength is fast + departing from me. I scarcely know what I am thinking. I am all confused, + agitated, shocked. Gracious heaven! Come, my dear Alice, help your + mistress; you, Alice, are the only friend I have left now. Are you not my + friend, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + She was sitting on a lounger as she spoke, and the poor affectionate girl, + who loved her as she did her life, threw herself over, and leaning her + head upon her mistress's knees wept bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Sit beside me, Alice,” said she; “whatever distance social distinctions + may have placed between us, I feel that the truth and sincerity of those + tears justify me in placing you near my heart. Sit beside me, but compose + yourself; and then you must assist me to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “They are killing you,” said Alley, still weeping. “What devil can tempt + them to act as they do? As for me, miss, it's breaking my heart, that I + see what you are suffering, and can't assist you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have your love and sympathy, your fidelity, too, my dear Alice; and + that now is all I believe the world has left me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, miss,” replied her maid, wiping her eyes, and striving to compose + herself, “no, indeed; there is another—another gentleman, I mean—as + well as myself, that feels deeply for your situation.” + </p> + <p> + Had Lucy's spirit been such as they were wont to be, she could have + enjoyed this little blunder of Alice's; but now her heart, like some + precious jewel that lies too deep in the bosom of the ocean for the sun's + strongest beams to reach, had sunk beneath the influence of either + cheerfulness or mirth. + </p> + <p> + “There is indeed, miss,” continued Alice, + </p> + <p> + “And pray, Alice,” asked her mistress, “how do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, miss,” replied the girl, “I am told that of late he is looking very + ill, too. They say he has lost his spirits all to pieces, and seldom + laughs—the Lord save us!” + </p> + <p> + “They say!—who say, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied Alice, with a perceptible heightening of her color, “ahem! + ahem! why, Dandy Dulcimer, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “And where have you seen him? Dulcimer, I mean. He, I suppose, who used + occasionally to play upon the instrument of that name in the Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, the same. Don't you remember how beautiful he played it the + night we came in the coach to town?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember there was something very-unpleasant between him and a farmer, + I believe; but I did not pay much attention to it at the time.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for that, miss, for I declare to goodness, Dandy's dulcimer + isn't such an unpleasant instrument as you think; and, besides, he has got + a new one the other day that plays lovely.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy felt a good deal anxious to hear some further information from Alley + upon the subject she had introduced, but saw that Dandy and his dulcimer + were likely to be substituted for it, all unconscious as the poor girl was + of the preference of the man to the master. + </p> + <p> + “He looks ill, you say, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Never seen him look so rosy in my life, miss, nor in such spirits.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked into her face, and for a moment's space one slight and feeble + gleam, which no suffering could prevent, passed over it, at this + intimation of the object which Alley's fancy then dwelt upon. + </p> + <p> + “He danced a hornpipe, miss, to the tune of the Swaggerin' Jig, upon the + kitchen table,” she proceeded; “and, sorra be off me, but it would do your + heart good to see the springs he would give—every one o' them a yard + high—and to hear how he'd crack his fingers as loud as the shot of a + pistol.” + </p> + <p> + A slight gloom overclouded Lucy's face; but, on looking at the artless + transition from the honest sympathy which Alley had just felt for her to a + sense of happiness which it was almost a crime to disturb, it almost + instantly disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “I must not be angry with her,” she said to herself; “this feeling, after + all, is only natural, and such as God. in his goodness bestows upon every + heart as the greatest gift of life, when not abused. I cannot be + displeased at the naivete with which she has forgotten my lover for her + own; for such I perceive this person she speaks of evidently is.” + </p> + <p> + She looked once more at her maid, whose eyes, with true Celtic feeling, + were now dancing with delight, whilst yet red with tears. “Alice,” said + she, in a voice of indulgent reproof, “who are you thinking of?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of Dandy, miss,” replied Alley; but in an instant the force of the + reproof as well as of the indulgence was felt, and sho acknowledged her + error by a blush. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, miss,” she said; “I'm a thoughtless creature. What can + you care about what I was sayin'? But—hem—well, about him—sure + enough, poor Dandy told me that everything is going wrong with him. He + doesn't, as I said, speak or smile as he used to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” asked her mistress, “whether he goes out much?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much, miss, I think; he goes sometimes to Lady Gourlay's and to Dean + Palmer's. But do you know what I heard, miss I hope you won't grow + jealous, though?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy gave a faint smile. “I hope not, Alice. What is it?” But here, on + recollecting again the scene she had just closed below stairs, she + shuddered, and could not help exclaiming, “Oh, gracious heaven!” Then + suddenly throwing off, as it were, all thought and reflection connected + with it, she looked again at her maid, and repeated the question, “What is + it, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, miss, have you ever seen Lord Dunroe's sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in London; but she was only a girl, though a lovely girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, miss, do you know what? She's in love with some one.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl!” exclaimed, Lucy, “I trust the course of her love may run + smoother than mine; but who is she supposed to be in love with?” she + asked, not, however, without a blush, which, with all her virtues, was, as + woman, out of her power to suppress. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” replied Alley, “not with him—and dear knows it would be no + disgrace to her, but the contrary, to fall in love with such a gentleman—no; + but with a young officer of the Thirty-third, who they say is lovely.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his name, do you not know, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Roberts, I think. They met at Dean Palmer's and Lady Gourlay's; for it + seems that Colonel Dundas was an old brother officer of Sir Edward's, when + he was young and in the army.” + </p> + <p> + “I have met that young officer, Alice,” replied Lucy, “and I know not how + it was, but I felt an—a—a—in fact, I cannot describe it. + Those who were present observed that he and I resembled each other very + much, and indeed the resemblance struck myself very forcibly.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, and if he resembled you, miss, I'm not surprised that Lady Emily + fell in love with him.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you come to hear all this, Alice?” asked Lucy with a good + deal of anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Why, miss, there's a cousin of my own maid to Mrs. Palmer, and you may + remember the evenin' you gave me lave to spend with her. She gave a party + on the same evenin' and Dandy was there. I think I never looked better; I + had on my new stays, and my hair was done up Grecian. Any way, I wasn't + the worst of them.” + </p> + <p> + “I am fatigued, Alice,” said Lucy; “make your narrative as short as you + can.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't much to add to it now, miss,” she replied. “It was observed + that Lady Emily's eyes and his were never off one another. She refused, it + seems, to dance with some major that's a great lord in the regiment, and + danced with Mr. Roberts afterwards. He brought her down to supper, too, + and sat beside her, and you know what that looks like.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy paused, and seemed as if anxious about something, but at length + asked, + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Alice, was he there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, miss,” replied the maid; “Dandy tells me he goes to no great parties + at all, he only dines where there's a few. But, indeed, by all accounts + he's very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by all accounts,” asked Lucy, a little startled. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Dandy, miss; so he tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Alice!” exclaimed Lucy, looking benignantly upon her. “I did not + think, Alice, that any conversation could have for a moment won me from + the painful state of mind in which I entered the room. Aid me me now to my + bedchamber. I must lie down, for I feel that I should endeavor to recruit + my strength some way. If I could sleep, I should be probably the better + for it; but, alas, Alice, you need not be told that misery and despair are + wretched bedfellows.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say despair,” replied Alice; “remember there's a good God above us, + who can do better for us than ever we can for ourselves. Trust in him. Who + knows but he's only trying you; and severely tried you are, my darlin' + mistress.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst uttering the last words, the affectionate creature's eyes filled + with tears. She rose, however, and having assisted Lucy to her + sleeping-room, helped to undress her, then fixed her with tender assiduity + in her bed, where, in a few minutes, exhaustion and anxiety of mind were + for the time forgotten, and she fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + The penetration of servants, in tracing, at fashionable parties, the + emotions of love through all its various garbs and disguises, constitutes + a principal and not the least disagreeable portion of their duty. The + history of Lady Emily's attachment to Ensign Roberts, though a profound + secret to the world, in the opinion of the parties themselves, and only + hoped for and suspected by each, was nevertheless perfectly well known by + a good number of the quality below stairs. The circumstance, at all + events, as detailed by Alley, was one which in this instance justified + their sagacity. Roberts and she had met, precisely as Alley said, three or + four times at Lady Gourlay's and the Dean's, where their several + attractions were, in fact, the theme of some observation. Those long, + conscious glances, however, which, on the subject of love are such + traitors to the heart, by disclosing its most secret operations, had + sufficiently well told them the state of everything within that mysterious + little garrison, and the natural result was that Lady Emily seldom thought + of any one or anything but Ensign Roberts and the aforesaid glances, nor + Mr. Roberts of anything but hers; for it so happened, that, with the + peculiar oversight in so many things by which the passion is + characterized, Lady Emily forgot that she had herself been glancing at the + ensign, or she could never have observed and interpreted his looks. With a + similar neglect of his own offences, in the same way must we charge Mr. + Roberts, who in his imagination saw nothing but the blushing glances of + this fair patrician. + </p> + <p> + Time went on, however, and Lucy, so far from recovering, was nearly + one-half of the week confined to her bed, or her apartment. Sometimes, by + way of varying the scene, and, if possible, enlivening her spirits, she + had forced herself to go down to the drawing-room, and occasionally to + take an airing in the carriage. A fortnight had elapsed, and yet neither + Norton nor his fellow-traveler had returned from France. Neither had Mr. + Birney; and our friend the stranger had failed to get any possible + intelligence of unfortunate Fenton, whom he now believed to have perished, + either by foul practices or the influence of some intoxicating debauch. + Thanks to Dandy Dulcimer, however, as well as to Alley Mahon, he was not + without information concerning Lucy's state of health; and, unfortunately, + all that he could hear about it was only calculated to depress and + distract him. + </p> + <p> + Dandy came to him one morning, about this period, and after rubbing his + head slightly with the tips of his fingers, said, + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, sir, I was very near havin' cotch the right Mrs. Norton yestherday—I + mane, I thought I was.” + </p> + <p> + “How was that?” asked his master. “Why, sir, I heard there was a fine, + good-looking widow of that name, livin' in Meeklenburgh street, where she + keeps a dairy; and sure enough there I found her. Do you undherstand, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I not, sirra? What mystery is there in it that I should not?” + </p> + <p> + “Deuce a sich a blazer of a widow I seen this seven years. I went early to + her place, and the first thing I saw was a lump of a six-year-ould—a + son of hers—playin' the Pandean pipes upon a whack o' bread and + butther that he had aiten at the top into canes. Somehow, although I can't + tell exactly why, I tuck a fancy to become acquainted with her, and + proposed, if she had no objection, to take a cup o' tay with her + yestherday evenin', statin' at the time that I had something to say that + might turn out to her advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “But what mystery is there in all this?” said his master. + </p> + <p> + “Mysthery, sir—why, where was there ever a widow since the creation + of Peter White, that hadn't more or less of mysthery about her?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what was the mystery here?” asked the other. “I do not perceive + any, so far.” + </p> + <p> + “Take your time, sir,” replied Dandy; “it's comin'. The young performer on + the Pandeans that I tould you of wasn't more than five or six at the most, + but a woman over the way, that I made inquiries of, tould me the length o' + time the husband was dead. Do you undherstand the mysthery now, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” replied the other; “I am amused by you; but I don't see the + mystery, notwithstanding. What was the result?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you the truth—she was a fine, comely, fiaghoola woman; and + as I heard she had the shiners, I began to think I might do worse.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought the girl called Alley Mahon was your favorite?” + </p> + <p> + “So she is, sir—that is, she's one o' them: but, talkin' o' + favorites, I am seldom without half-a-dozen.” + </p> + <p> + “Very liberal, indeed, Dandy; but I wish to hear the upshot.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, we had a cup o' tay together yestherday evenin', and, between + you and me, I began, as it might be, to get fond of her. She's very + pretty, sir; but I must say, that the man who marries her will get a + mouth, plaise goodness, that he must kiss by instalments. Faith, if it + could be called property, he might boast that his is extensive; and divil + a mistake in it.” + </p> + <p> + “She has a large mouth, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul, sir, if you stood at the one side of it you'd require a + smart telescope to see to the other. No man at one attempt could ever kiss + her. I began, sir, at the left side—that's always the right side to + kiss at and went on successfully enough till I got half way through; but + you see, sir, the evenin's is but short yet, and as I had no time to + finish, I'm to go back this evenin' to get to the other side. + </p> + <p> + “Still I'm at a loss, Dandy,” replied his master, not knowing whether to + smile or get angry; “finish it without going about in this manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, sir, and that's more than I could do in kissing the widow. Divil + such a circumbendibus ever a man had as I had in gettin' as far as the + nose, where I had to give up until this evenin' as I said. Now, sir, + whether to consider that an advantage or disadvantage is another mysthery + to me. There's some women, and they have such a small, rosy, little mouth, + that a man must gather up his lips into a bird's bill to kiss them. Now, + there's Miss Gour—” + </p> + <p> + A look of fury from his master divided the word in his mouth, and he + paused from terror. His master became more composed, however, and said, + “To what purpose have you told me all this?” + </p> + <p> + “Gad, sir to tell you the truth, I saw you were low-spirited, and wanted + something to rouse you. It's truth for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this Mrs. Norton, however, the woman whom we are seeking?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” exclaimed Dandy, casting down his hand, with vexatious, + vehemence, against the open air; “by the piper o' Moses, I'm the stupidest + man that ever peeled a phatie. Troth, I was so engaged, sir, that I forgot + it; but I'll remember it to-night, plaise goodness.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Dandy,” exclaimed his master, smiling, “I fear you are a faithless + swain. I thought Alley Mahon was at least the first on the list.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, sir,” replied Dandy, “I believe she is, too. Poor Alley! By the + way, sir, I beg your pardon, but I have news for you that I fear will give + you a heavy heart.” + </p> + <p> + “How,” exclaimed his master, “how—what is it? Tell me instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gourlay is ill, sir. She was goin' to be married to this lord; her + father, I believe, had the day appointed, and she had given her consent.” + </p> + <p> + His master seized him by the collar with both hands, and peering into his + eyes, whilst his own blazed with actual fire, he held him for a moment as + if in a vise, exclaiming, “Her consent, you villain!” But, as if + recollecting himself, he suddenly let him go, and said, calmly, “Go on + with what you were about to say.” + </p> + <p> + “I have very little more to say, sir,” replied Dandy; “herself and Lord + Dunroe is only waitin' till she gets well and then they're to be married?” + </p> + <p> + “You said she gave her consent, did you not!” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of it, sir, and that, I believe, is what's breakin' her heart. + However, it's not my affair to direct any one; still, if I was in + somebody's shoes, I know the tune I'd sing.” + </p> + <p> + “And what tune would you sing?” asked his master. + </p> + <p> + Dandy sung the following stave, and, as he did it, he threw his comic eye + upon his master with such humorous significance that the latter, although + wrapped in deep reflection at the moment, on suddenly observing! it, could + not avoid smiling: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Will you list, and come with me, fair maid? + Will you list, and come with me, fair maid? + Will you list, and come with me, fair maid? + And folly the lad with the white cockade?” + </pre> + <p> + “If you haven't a good voice, sir, you could whisper the words into her + ear, and as you're so near the mouth—hem—a word to the wise—then + point to the chaise that you'll have standin' outside, and my life for + you, there's an end to the fees o' the docther.” + </p> + <p> + His master, who had relapsed into thought before he concluded his advice, + looked at him without seeming to have heard it. He then traversed the room + several times, his chin supported by his finger and thumb, after which he + seemed to have formed a resolution. + </p> + <p> + “Go, sir,” said he, “and put that letter to Father M'Mahon in the + post-office. I shall not want you for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “Will I ordher a chaise, sir?” replied Dandy, with a serio-comic face. + </p> + <p> + One look from his master, however, sent him about his business; but the + latter could hear him lilting the “White Cockade,” as he went down stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, when Dandy was gone, “can it be possible that she has at + length given her consent to this marriage? Never voluntarily. It has been + extorted by foul deceit and threatening, by some base fraud practised upon + her generous and unsuspecting nature. I am culpable to stand tamely by and + allow this great and glorious creature to be sacrificed to a bad ambition, + and a worse man, without coming to the rescue. But, in the meantime, is + this information true? Alas, I fear it is; for I know the unscrupulous + spirit the dear girl has, alone and unassisted, to contend with. Yet if it + be true, oh, why should she not have written to me? Why not have enabled + me to come to her defence? I know not what to think. At all events, I + shall, as a last resource, call upon her father. I shall explain to him + the risk he runs in marrying his daughter to this man who is at once a + fool and a scoundrel. But how can I do so? Birney has not yet returned + from France, and I have no proofs on which to rest such serious + allegations; nothing at present but bare assertions, which her father, in + the heat and fury of his ambition, might not only disbelieve, but + misinterpret. Be it so; I shall at least warn him, take it as he will; and + if all else should fail, I will disclose to him my name and family, in + order that he may know, at all events, that I am no impostor. My present + remonstrance may so far alarm him as to cause the persecution against Lucy + to be suspended for a time, and on' Birney's return, we shall, I trust, be + able to speak more emphatically.” + </p> + <p> + He accordingly sent for a chaise, into which he stepped and ordered the + driver to leave him at Sir Thomas Gourlay's and to wait there for him. + </p> + <p> + Lord Dunroe was at this period perfectly well aware that Birney's visit to + France was occasioned by purposes that boded nothing favorable to his + interests; and were it not for Lucy's illness, there is little doubt that + the marriage would, ere now, have taken place. A fortnight had elapsed, + and every day so completely filled him with alarm, that he proposed to Sir + Thomas Gourlay the expediency of getting the license at once, and having + the ceremony performed privately in her father's house. To this the father + would have assented, were it not that he had taken it into his head that + Lucy was rallying, and would soon be in a condition to go through it, in + the parish church, at least. A few days, he hoped, would enable her to + bear it; but if not, he was willing to make every concession to his + lordship's wishes. Her delicate health, he said, would be a sufficient + justification. At all events, both agreed that there could be no harm in + having the license provided: and, accordingly, upon the morning of the + stranger's visit, Sir Thomas and Lord Dunroe had just left the house of + the former for the Ecclesiastical Court, in Henrietta street, a few + minutes before his arrival. Sir Thomas was mistaken, however, in imagining + that his daughter's health was improving, The doctor, indeed, had ordered + carriage exercise essentially necessary; and Lucy being none of those weak + and foolish girls, who sink under illness and calamity by an apathetic + neglect of their health, or a criminal indifference to the means of + guarding and prolonging the existence into which God has called them, left + nothing undone on her part to second the efforts of the physician. + Accordingly, whenever she was able to be up, or the weather permitted it, + she sat in the carriage for an hour or two as it drove through some of the + beautiful suburban scenery by which our city is surrounded. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, on the door being opened, was told by a servant, through + mistake, that Sir Thomas Gourlay was within. The man then showed him to + the drawing-room, where he said there was none but Miss Gourlay, he + believed, who was waiting for the carriage to take her airing. + </p> + <p> + On hearing this piece of intelligence the stranger's heart began to + palpitate, and his whole system, physical and spiritual, was disturbed by + a general commotion that mounted to pain, and almost banished his presence + of mind for the moment. He tapped at the drawing-room door, and a low, + melancholy voice, that penetrated his heart, said, “Come in.” He entered, + and there on a sofa sat Lucy before him. He did not bow—his heart + was too deeply interested in her fate to remember the formalities of + ceremony—but he stood, and fixed his eyes upon her with a long and + anxious gaze. There she sat; but, oh! how much changed in appearance from + what he had known her on every previous interview. Not that the change, + whilst it spoke of sorrow and suffering, was one which diminished her + beauty; on the contrary, it had only changed its character to something + far more touching and impressive than health itself with all its blooming + hues could have bestowed. Her features were certainly thinner, but there + was visible in them a serene but mournful spirit—a voluptuous + languor, heightened and spiritualized by purity and intellect into an + expression that realized our notions rather of angelic beauty than of the + loveliness of mere woman. To all this, sorrow had added a dignity so full + of melancholy and commanding grace—a seriousness indicative of such + truth and honor—as to make the heart of the spectator wonder, and + the eye almost to weep on witnessing an association so strange and + incomprehensible, as that of such beauty and evident goodness with + sufferings that seem rather like crimes against purity and innocence, and + almost tempt the weak heart to revolt against the dispensations of + Providence. + </p> + <p> + When their eyes rested on each other, is it necessary to say that the + melancholy position of Lucy was soon read in those large orbs that seemed + about to dissolve into tears? The shock of the stranger's sudden and + unexpected appearance, when taken in connection with the loss of him + forever, and the sacrifice of her love and happiness, which, to save her + father's life, she had so heroically and nobly made, was so strong, she + felt unable to rise. He approached her, struck deeply by the dignified + entreaty for sympathy and pardon that was in her looks. + </p> + <p> + “I am not well able to rise, dear Charles,” she said, breaking the short + silence which had occurred, and extending her hand; “and I suppose you have + come to reproach me. As for me, I have nothing to ask you for now—nothing + to hope for but pardon, and that you will forget me henceforth. Will you + be noble enough to forgive her who was once your Lucy, but who can never + be so more?” + </p> + <p> + The dreadful solemnity, together with the pathetic spirit of tenderness + and despair that breathed in these words, caused a pulsation in his heart + and a sense of suffocation about his throat that for the moment prevented + him from speaking. He seized her hand, which was placed passively in his, + and as he put it to his lips, Lucy felt a warm tear or two fall upon it. + At length he spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why is this, Lucy?” he said; “your appearance has unmanned me; but I + see it and feel it all. I have been sacrificed to ambition, yet I blame + you not.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear Charles,” she replied; look upon me and then ask yourself who is + the victim.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has happened?” he asked; + </p> + <p> + “What machinery of hell has been at work to reduce you to this? Fraud, + deceit, treachery have done it. But, for the sake of God, let me know, as + I said, what has occurred since our last interview to occasion this + deplorable change—this rooted sorrow—this awful spirit of + despair that I read in your face? + </p> + <p> + “Not despair, Charles, for I will never yield to that; but it is enough to + say, that a barrier deep as the grave, and which only that can remove, is + between us forever in this life.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say, then, that you never can be mine?” + </p> + <p> + “That, alas, is what I mean to say—what I must say.” + </p> + <p> + “But why, Lucy—why, dearest Lucy—for still I must call you so; + what has occasioned this? I cannot understand it.” + </p> + <p> + She then related to him, briefly, but feelingly, the solemn promise, + which, as our readers are aware of, she had given her father, and under + what circumstances she had given it, together with his determination, + unchanged and irrevocable, to force her to its fulfilment. Having heard it + he paused for some time, whilst Lucy's eyes were fixed upon him, as if she + expected a verdict of life or death from his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear Lucy,” he said; “noble girl! how can I quarrel with your + virtues? You did it to save a father's life, and have left me nothing to + reproach you with; but in increasing my admiration of you, my heart is + doubly struck with anguish at the thought that I must lose you.” + </p> + <p> + “All, yes,” she replied; “but you must take comfort from the difference in + our fates. You merely have to endure the pain of loss; but I—oh, + dear Charles—what have I to encounter? You are not forced into a + marriage with one who possesses not a single sentiment or principle of + virtue or honor in common with yourself. No; you are merely—I + deprived of a woman whom you love; but you are not forced into marriage + with a woman, abandoned and unprincipled, whom you hate. Yes, Charles, you + must take comfort, as I said, from the difference of our fates.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Lucy! do you mean to say I can take comfort from your misery? Am I + so selfish or ungenerous as to thank God that you, whose happiness I + prefer a thousand times to my own, are more miserable than I am? I thought + you knew me better.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, Charles,” she replied, “have compassion on me. The expression of + these generous sentiments almost kills me. Assume some moral error—some + semblance of the least odious vice—some startling blemish of + character—some weakness that may enable me to feel that in losing + you I have not so much to lose as I thought; something that may make the + contrast between the wretch to whom I am devoted and yourself less + repulsive.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I assure you, my dear Lucy,” he replied, with a melancholy smile, + “that I have my errors, my weaknesses, my frailties, if that will comfort + you; so many, indeed, that my greatest virtue, and that of which I am most + proud, is my love for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Charles, you reason badly,” she replied, “for you prove yourself to + be capable of that noble affection which never yet existed in a vicious + heart. As for me, I know not on what hand to turn. It is said that when a + person hanging by some weak branch from the brow of a precipice finds it + beginning to give way, and that the plunge below is unavoidable, a certain + courage, gained from despair, not only diminishes the terror of the fall, + but relieves the heart by a bold and terrible feeling that for the moment + banishes fear, and reconciles him to his fate.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a dreadful analogy, my dear Lucy; but you must take comfort. Who + knows what a day may bring forth? You are not yet hanging upon the + precipice of life.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel that I am,—Charles; and what is more, I see the depth to + which I must be precipitated; but, alas, I possess none of that fearful + courage that is said to reconcile one to the fall.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” he replied, “into this gulf of destruction you shall never fall. + Believe me, there is an invisible hand that will support you when you + least expect it; a power that shapes our purposes, roughhew them as we + will. I came to request an interview with your father upon this very + subject. Have courage, dearest girl; friends are at work who I trust will + ere long be enabled to place documents in his hands that will soon change + his purposes. I grant that it is possible these documents may fail, or may + not be procured; and in that case I know not how we are to act. I mention + the probability of failure lest a future disappointment occasion such a + shock as in your present state you may be incapable of sustaining; but + still have hope, for the probability is in our favor.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head incredulously, and replied, “You do not know the + inflexible determination of my father on this point; neither can I + conceive what documents you could place before him that would change his + purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not conceive that I am at liberty even to you, Lucy, to mention + circumstances that may cast a stain upon high integrity and spotless + innocence, so long as it is possible the proofs I speak of may fail. In + the latter case, so far at least as the world is concerned, justice would + degenerate into scandal, whilst great evil and little good must be the + consequence. I think I am bound in honor not to place old age, venerable + and virtuous, on the one hand, and unsuspecting innocence on the other, in + a contingency that may cause them irreparable injury. I will now say, that + if your happiness were not involved in the success or failure of our + proceedings, I should have ceased to be a party in the steps we are taking + until the grave had closed upon one individual at least, while unconscious + of the shame that was to fall upon his family.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked upon him with a feeling of admiration which could not be + misunderstood. “Dear Charles,” she exclaimed; “ever honorable—ever + generous—ever considerate and unselfish; I do not of course + understand your allusions; but I am confident that whatever you do will be + done in a spirit worthy of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The look of admiration, and why should we not add love, which Lucy had + bestowed upon him was observed and felt deeply. Their eyes met, and, + seizing her hand again, he whispered, in that low and tender voice which + breathes the softest and most contagious emotion of the heart, “Alas, + Lucy, you could not even dream how inexpressibly dear you are to me. + Without you, life to me will possess no blessing. All that I ever + conceived of its purest and most exalted enjoyments were centred in you, + and in that sweet communion which I thought we were destined to hold + together; but now, now—oh, my God, what a blank will my whole future + existence be without you!” + </p> + <p> + “Charles—Charles,” she replied, but at the same time her eyes were + swimming in tears, “spare me this; do not overload my heart with such an + excess of sorrow; have compassion on me, for I am already too sensible of + my own misery—too sensible of the happiness I have lost. I am here + isolated and alone, with no kind voice to whisper one word of consolation + to my unhappy heart, my poor maid only excepted; and I am often forced, in + order to escape the pain of present reflections, to make a melancholy + struggle once more to entrance myself in the innocent dreams of my early + life. Yes, and I will confess it, to call back if I can those visions that + gave the delicious hues of hope and happiness to the love which bound your + heart and mine together. The illusion, however, is too feeble to struggle + successfully with the abiding consciousness of my wretchedness, and I + awake to a bitterness of anguish that is drinking up the fountains of my + life, out of which life I feel, if this state continues, I shall soon pass + away.” + </p> + <p> + On concluding, she wiped away the tears that were fast falling; and her + lover was so deeply moved that he could scarcely restrain his own. + </p> + <p> + “There is one word, dearest Lucy,” he replied, “but though short it is + full of comfort—hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! Charles, I feel that it has been blotted out of the destiny of my + life. I look for it; I search for it, but in vain. In this life I cannot + find it; I say in this, because it is now, when all about me is darkness, + and pain, and suffering, that I feel the consolation which arises from our + trust in another. This consolation, however, though true, is sad, and the + very joy it gives is melancholy, because it arises from that mysterious + change which withdraws us from existence; and when it leads us to + happiness we cannot forget that it is through the gate of the grave. But + still it is a consolation, and a great one—to a sufferer like me, + the only one—we must all die.” + </p> + <p> + Like a strain of soft but solemn music, these mournful words proceeded + from her lips, from which they seemed to catch the touching sweetness + which characterized them. + </p> + <p> + “I ought not to shed these tears,” she added; “nor ought you, dear + Charles, to feel so deeply what I say as I perceive you do; but I know not + how it is, I am impressed with a presentiment that this is probably our + last meeting; and I confess that I am filled with a mournful satisfaction + in speaking to you—in looking upon you—yes, I confess it; and + I feel all the springs of tenderness opened, as it were, in my unhappy + heart. In a short time,”—she added, and here she almost sobbed, “it + will be a crime to think of you—to allow my very imagination to turn + to your image; and I shall be called upon to banish that image forever + from my heart, which I must strive to do, for to cherish it there will be + wrong; but I shall struggle, for”—she added, proudly —“whatever + my duty may be, I shall leave nothing undone to preserve my conscience + free from its own reproaches.” + </p> + <p> + “Take comfort, Lucy,” he replied; “this will not—shall not be our + last meeting. It is utterly impossible that such a creature as you are + should be doomed to a fate so wretched. Do not allow them to hurry you + into this odious marriage. Gain time, and we shall yet triumph.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Charles,” she replied; “but, then, misery often grows apathetic, and + the will, wearied down and weakened, loses the power of resistance. I have + more than once felt attacks of this kind, and I know that if they should + observe it, I am lost. Oh, how little is the love of woman understood! And + how little of life is known except through those false appearances that + are certain to deceive all who look upon them as realities! Here am I, + surrounded by every luxury that this world, can present, and how many + thousands imagine me happy! What is there within the range of fashion and + the compass of wealth that I cannot command? and yet amidst all this + dazzle of grandeur I am more wretched than the beggar whom a morsel of + food will make contented.” + </p> + <p> + “Resist this marriage, Lucy, for a time, that is all I ask,” replied her + lover; “be firm, and, above all things, hope. You may ere long understand + the force and meaning of my words. At present you cannot, nor is it in my + power, with honor, to speak more plainly.” + </p> + <p> + “My father,” replied this high-minded and sensitive creature, “said some + time ago, 'Is not my daughter a woman of honor?' Yes, Charles, I must be a + woman of honor. But it is time you should go; only before you do, hear me. + Henceforth we have each of us one great mutual task imposed upon us—a + task the fulfilment of which is dictated alike by honor, virtue, and + religion.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, Lucy, what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “To forget each other. From the moment I become,” she sobbed aloud—“you + know,” she added, “what I would say, but what I cannot—from that + moment memory becomes a crime.” + </p> + <p> + “But an involuntary crime, my ever dear Lucy. As for my part,” he replied, + vehemently, and with something akin to distraction, “I feel that is + impossible, and that even were it possible, I would no more attempt to + banish your image from my heart than I would to deliberately still its + pulses. Never, never—such an attempt, such an act, if successful, + would be a murder of the affections. No. Lucy, whilst one spark of mortal + life is alive in my body, whilst memory can remember the dreams of only + the preceding moment, whilst a single faculty of heart or intellect + remains by which your image can be preserved, I shall cling to that image + as the shipwrecked sailor would to the plank that bears him through the + midnight storm—as a despairing soul would to the only good act of a + wicked life that he could plead for his salvation.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst he spoke, Lucy kept her eyes fixed upon his noble features, now + wrought up into an earnest but melancholy animation, and when he had + concluded, she exclaimed, “And this is the man of whose love they would + deprive me, whose very acknowledgment of it comes upon my spirit like an + anthem of the heart; and I know not what I have done to be so tried; yet, + as it is the will of God, I receive it for the best. Dear Charles, you + must go; but you spoke of remonstrating with my father. Do not so; an + interview would only aggravate him. And as you admit that certain + documents are wanted to produce a change in his opinions, you may see + clearly that until you produce them an expostulation would be worse than + useless. On the contrary, it might precipitate matters and ruin all. Now + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you are right,” he replied, “as you always are; how can I go? How + can I tear myself from you? Dearest, dearest Lucy, what a love is mine! + But that is not surprising—who could love you with an ordinary + passion?” + </p> + <p> + Apprehensive that her father might return, she rose up, but so completely + had she been exhausted by the excitement of this interview that he was + obliged to assist her. + </p> + <p> + “I hear the carriage,” said she; “it is at the door: will you ring for my + maid? And now, Charles, as it is possible that we must meet no more, say, + before you go, that you forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “There is everything in your conduct to be admired and loyed, my dearest + Lucy; but nothing to be forgiven.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible,” she said, as if in communion with herself, “that we + shall never meet, never speak, never, probably, look upon each other + more?” + </p> + <p> + Her lover observed that her face became suddenly pale, and she staggered a + little, after which she sank and would have fallen had he not supported + her in his arms. He had already rung for Alley Mahon, and there was + nothing for it but to place Lucy once more upon the sofa, whither he was + obliged to carry her, for she had fainted. Having placed her there, it + became necessary to support her head upon his bosom, and in doing so—is + it in human nature to be severe upon him?—he rapturously kissed her + lips, and pressed her to his heart in a long, tender, and melancholy + embrace. The appearance of her maid, however, who always accompanied her + in the carriage, terminated this pardonable theft, and after a few words + of ordinary conversation they separated. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. Dandy's Visit to Summerfield Cottage + </h2> + <h3> + —Where he Makes a most Ungallant Mistake—Returns with Tidings + of both Mrs. Norton and Fenton—and Generously Patronizes his Master + </h3> + <p> + On the morning after this interview the stranger was waited on by Birney, + who had returned from France late on the preceding night. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my friend,” said he, after they had shaken hands, “I hope you are + the bearer of welcome intelligence!” + </p> + <p> + The gloom and disappointment that were legible in this man's round, rosy, + and generally good-humored countenance were observed, however, by the + stranger at a second glance. + </p> + <p> + “But how is this?” he added; “you are silent, and I fear, now that I look + at you a second time, that matters have not gone well with you. For God's + sake, however, let me know; for I am impatient to hear the result.” + </p> + <p> + “All is lost,” replied Birney; “and I fear we have been outgeneralled. The + clergyman is dead, and the book in which the record of her death was + registered has disappeared, no one knows how. I strongly suspect, however, + that your opponent is at the bottom of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Dunroe?” + </p> + <p> + “I do; that scoundrel Norton, at once his master and his slave, + accompanied by a suspicious-looking fellow, whose name I discovered to be + Mulholland, were there before us, and I fear, carried their point by + securing the register, which I have no doubt has been by this time reduced + to ashes.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, then,” replied the stranger, despondingly, “it's all up + with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless,” observed Birney, “you have been more successful at home than I + have been abroad. Any trace of Mrs. Norton?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatsoever. But, my dear Birney, what you tell me is surprisingly + mysterious. How could Dunroe become aware of the existence of these + documents? or, indeed, of our proceedings at all? And who is this + Mulholland you speak of that accompanied him?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing whatever about him,” replied Birney, “except that he is a + fellow of dissolute appearance, with sandy hair, not ill-looking, setting + aside what is called a battered look, and a face of the most consummate + effrontery.” + </p> + <p> + “I see it all,” replied the other. “That drunken scoundrel M'Bride has + betrayed us, as far, at least, as he could. The fellow, while his conduct + continued good, was in my confidence, as far as a servant ought to be. In + this matter, however, he did not know all, unless, indeed, by inference + from the nature of the document itself, and from knowing the name of the + family whose position it affected. How it might have affected them, + however, I don't think he knew.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know that this Mulholland is that man?” + </p> + <p> + “From your description of him I am confident there can be no mistake about + it—not the slightest; he must have changed his name purposely on + this occasion; and, I dare say, Dunroe has liberally paid him for his + treachery.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is to be done now?” asked Birney; “here we are fairly at fault.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Miss Gourlay,” replied the other, “and if it were only from + motives of humanity, we must try, by every means consistent with honor, to + stop or retard her marriage with Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “But how are we to do so?” + </p> + <p> + “I know not at present; but I shall think of it. This is most unfortunate. + I declare solemnly that it was only in so far as the facts we were so + anxious to establish might have enabled us to prevent this accursed union, + that I myself felt an interest in our success. Miss Gourlay's happiness + was my sole motive of action.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, sir,” replied Birney; “but in the meantime we are + completely at a stand. Chance, it is true, may throw something in our way; + but, in the present position of circumstances, chance, nay, all the + chances are against us.” + </p> + <p> + “It is unfortunately too true,” replied the stranger; “there is not a + single opening left for us; we are, on the contrary, shut out completely + in every direction. I shall write, however, to a lady who possesses much + influence with Miss Gourlay; but, alas, to what purpose? Miss Gourlay + herself has no influence whatever; and, as to her father, he does not live + who could divert him from his object. His vile ambition only in the matter + of his daughter could influence him, and it will do so to her destruction, + for she cannot survive this marriage long.” + </p> + <p> + “You look thin, and a good deal careworn,” observed Birney, “which, + indeed, I am sorry to see. Constant anxiety, however, and perpetual + agitation of spirits will wear any man down. Well, I must bid you good + morning; but I had almost forgotten to inquire about poor Fenton. Any + trace of him during my absence?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the slightest. In fact, every point is against us. Lady Gourlay has + relapsed into her original hopelessness, or nearly so, and I myself am now + more depressed than I have ever been. Parish register, documents, corrupt + knaves, and ungrateful traitors—perish all the machinery of justice + on the one hand, and of villainy on the other; only let us succeed in + securing Miss Gourlay's happiness, and I am contented. That, now and + henceforth, is the absorbing object of my life. Let her be happy; let her + be but happy—and this can only be done by preventing her union with + this heartless young man, whose principal motive to it is her property.” + </p> + <p> + Birney then took his departure, leaving his friend in such a state of + distress, and almost of despair, on Lucy's account, as we presume our + readers can very sufficiently understand, without any further assistance + from us. He could not, however, help congratulating himself on his + prudence in withholding from Miss Gourlay the sanguine expectations which + he himself had entertained upon the result of Birney's journey to France. + Had he not done so, he knew that she would have participated in his hopes, + and, as a natural consequence, she must now have had to bear this deadly + blow of disappointment, probably the last cherished hope of her heart; and + under such circumstances, it is difficult to say what its effect upon her + might have been. This was now his only satisfaction, to which we may add + the consciousness that he had not, by making premature disclosures, been + the means of compromising the innocent. + </p> + <p> + After much thought and reflection upon the gloomy position in which both + he himself and especially Lucy were placed, he resolved to write to Mrs. + Mainwaring upon the subject; although at the moment he scarcely knew in + what terms to address her, or what steps he could suggest to her, as one + feeling a deep interest in Miss Gourlay's happiness. At length, after much + anxious rumination, he wrote the following short letter, or rather note, + more with a view of alarming Mrs. Mainwaring into activity, than of + dictating to her any line of action as peculiarly suited to the + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,—The fact of Miss Gourlay having taken refuge with you as her + friend, upon a certain occasion that was, I believe, very painful to that + young lady, I think sufficiently justifies me in supposing that you feel a + warm interest in her fate. For this reason, therefore, I have taken the + liberty of addressing you with reference to her present situation. If ever + a human being required the aid and consolation of friendship, Miss Gourlay + now does; and I will not suppose that a lady whom she honored with her + esteem and affection, could be capable of withholding from her such aid + and such consolation, in a crisis so deplorable. You are probably aware, + madam, that she is on the point of being sacrificed, by a forced and hated + union, to the ambitious views of her father; but you could form a very + slight conception indeed of the horror with which she approaches the gulf + that is before her. Could there be no means devised by which this unhappy + young lady might be enabled with honor to extricate herself from the + wretchedness with which she is encompassed? I beg of you, madam, to think + of this; there is little time to be lost. A few days may seal her misery + forever. Her health and spirits are fast sinking, and she is beginning to + entertain apprehensions that that apathy which proceeds from the united + influence of exhaustion and misery, may, in some unhappy moment, deprive + her of the power of resistance, even for a time. Madam, I entreat that you + will either write to her or see her; that you will sustain and console her + as far as in you lies, and endeavor, if possible, to throw some + obstruction in the way of this accursed marriage; whether through your + influence with herself, or her father, matters not. I beg, madam, to + apologize for the liberty I have taken in addressing you upon this painful + but deeply important subject, and I appeal to yourself whether it is + possible to know Miss Gourlay, and not to feel the deepest interest in + everything that involves her happiness or misery. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honor to be, madam, + </p> + <p> + “Your obedient, faithful servant, and Her Sincere Friend. + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—I send this letter by my servant, as I am anxious that it + should reach no hands, and be subjected to no eyes, but your own; and I + refer you to Miss Gourlay herself, who will satisfy you as to the honor + and purity of my motives in writing it.” + </p> + <p> + Having sealed this communication, the stranger rang for Dulcimer, who made + his appearance accordingly, and received his instructions for its safe + delivery. + </p> + <p> + “You must deliver this note, Dandy,” said he, “to the lady to whom Miss + Gourlay and her maid drove, the morning you took the unwarrantable liberty + of following them there.” + </p> + <p> + “And for all that,” replied Dandy, “it happens very luckily that I chance, + for that very raison, to know now where to find her.” + </p> + <p> + “It does so, certainly,” replied his master. “Here is money for you—take + a car, or whatever kind of vehicle you prefer. Give this note into her own + hand, and make as little delay as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect an answer, sir?” replied Dandy; “and am I to wait for one, + or ask for one?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite certain of that,” said the other; “it is altogether + discretionary with her. But there can be no harm in asking the question, + at all events. Any other Mrs. Norton in the way, Dandy?” + </p> + <p> + “Deuce a once, sir. I have sifted the whole city, and, barrin' the three + dozen I made out already, I can't find hilt or hair of another. Faith, + sir, she ought to be worth something when she's got, for I may fairly say + she has cost me trouble enough at any rate, the skulkin' thief, whoever + she is; and me to lose my hundre' pounds into the bargain—bad scran + to her!” + </p> + <p> + “Only find me the true Mrs. Norton,” said his master, “and the hundred + pounds are yours, and for Fenton fifty. Be off, now, lose no time, and + bring me her answer if she sends any.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy's motions were all remarkably rapid, and we need not say that he + allowed no grass to grow under his feet while getting over his journey. On + arriving at Summerfield Cottage, he learned that Mrs. Mainwaring was in + the garden; and on stating that he had a letter to deliver into her own + hands, that lady desired him to be brought in, as she was then in + conversation with her daughter, who had been compelled at length to fly + from the brutality of her husband, and return once more to the protection + of her mother's roof. On opening the letter and looking at it, she + started, and turning to her daughter said, + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me, my dear Maria, for a few moments, but don't forget to + finish what you were telling me about this unfortunate young man, Fenton, + as he, you say, calls himself, from Ballytrain.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” thought Dandy, “here's a discovery. By the elevens, I'll hould + goold to silver that this is poor Fenton that disappeared so suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, miss,” said he, addressing Mrs. Scarman as an + unmarried lady, as he perceived that she was the person from whom he could + receive the best intelligence on the subject; “I hope it's no offence, + miss, to ax a question?” + </p> + <p> + “None, certainly, my good man,” replied her mother, “provided it be a + proper one.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, miss,” he continued, “that you were mentioning something to this + lady about a young man named Fenton, from Ballytrain?” + </p> + <p> + “I was,” replied Mrs. Scarman, “certainly; but what interest can you have + in him?” + </p> + <p> + “If he's the young man I mane,” continued Dandy, “he's not quite steady in + the head sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “If he were, he would not be in his present abode,” replied the lady. + </p> + <p> + “And pray, miss—beg pardon again,” said Dandy, with the best bow and + scrape he could manage; “pray, miss, might I be so bould as to ask where + that is?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Scarman looked at her mother. “Mamma,” said she, “but, bless me! what + is the matter? you are in tears.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you by and by, my dear Maria,” replied her mother; “but you + were going to ask me something—what was it?” + </p> + <p> + “This man,” replied her daughter, “wishes to know the abode of the person + I was speaking about.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, what is his motive? What is your motive, my good man, for asking + such a question?” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise, ma'am,” replied Dandy, “I happen to know a gentleman who has + been for some time on the lookout for him, and wishes very much to find + where he is. If it be the young man I spake of, he disappeared some three + or four months ago from the town of Ballytrain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Mrs. Mainwaring, with her usual good-sense and sagacity, + “as I know not what your motive for asking such a question is, I do not + think this lady ought to answer it; but if the gentleman himself is + anxious to know, let him see her; and upon giving satisfactory reasons for + the interest he takes in him, he shall be informed of his present abode. + You must rest satisfied with this. Go to the kitchen and say to the + servant that I desired her to give you refreshment.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma'am,” replied Dandy; “faith, that's a lively message, + anyhow, and one that I feel great pleasure in deliverin'. This Wicklow + air's a regular cutler; it has sharpened my teeth all to pieces; and if + the cook 'ithin shows me good feedin' I'll show her something in the shape + of good atin'. I'm a regular man of talent at my victuals, ma'am, an' was + often tould I might live to die an alderman yet, plaise God; many thanks + agin, ma'am.” So saying, Dandy proceeded at a brisk pace to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “That communication, mamma,” said Mrs. Scarman, after Dandy had left them, + “has distressed you.” + </p> + <p> + “It has, my child. Poor Miss Gourlay is in a most wretched state. This I + know is, from her lover. In fact, they will be the death—absolutely + and beyond a doubt—the death of this admirable and most lovely + creature. But what can I do? Her father will not permit me to visit her, + neither will he permit her to correspond with me, I have already written + to him on the risk to which he submits his daughter in this ominous + marriage, but I received neither notice of, nor reply to my letter. Oh, + no; the dear girl is unquestionably doomed. I thinks however, I shall + write a few lines in reply to this,” she added, “but, alas the day! they + cannot speak of comfort.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst she is thus engaged, we will take, a peep at the on-goings of Dandy + and Nancy Gallaher, in the kitchen, where, in pursuance of his message our + bashful valet was corroborating, by very able practice, the account which + he had given of the talents he had eulogized so justly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in troth,” said he, “but, first and foremost, I haven't the + pleasure of knowin' yer name.” + </p> + <p> + “Nancy Gallaher's my name, then,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Dandy, suspending the fork and an immense piece of ham on the + top of it at the Charybdis which he had opened to an unusual extent to + receive it; “ah, ma'am, it wasn't always that, I'll go bail. My + counthrymen knows the value of such a purty woman not to stamp some of + their names upon her. Not that you have a married look, either, any more + than myself; you're too fresh for that, now that I look at you again.” + </p> + <p> + A certain cloud, which, as Dandy could perceive, was beginning to darken + her countenance, suggested the quick turn of his last observation. The + countenance, however, cleared again, and she replied, “It is my name, and + what is more, I never changed it. I was hard to plaise—and I am hard + to plaise, and ever an' always had a dread of gettin' into bad company, + especially when I knew that the same bad company was to last for life.” + </p> + <p> + “An ould maid, by the Rock of Cashel,” said Dandy, to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Blood alive, I wondher has she money; but here goes to thry. Ah, Nancy,” + he proceeded, “you wor too hard to plaise; and now, that you have got + money like myself, nothing but a steady man, and a full purse, will shoot + your convanience—isn't that pure gospel, now, you good lookin' + thief?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy's face was now like a cloudless sky. “Well,” she replied, “maybe + there's truth in that, and maybe there's not; but I hope you are takin' + care of yourself? That's what I always did and ever will, plaise God. How + do you like the ham?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a so well dressed a bit o' ham ever I ett—it melts into one's + mouth like a kiss from a purty woman. Troth, Nancy, I think I'm kissing + you ever since I began to ait it.” + </p> + <p> + “Get out,” said Nancy, laughing; “troth, you're a quare one; but you know + our Wickla' hams is famous.” + </p> + <p> + “And so is your Wicklow girls,” replied Dandy; “but for my part, I'd + sooner taste their lips than the best hams that ever were ett any day.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but,” said Nancy, “did you ever taste our bacon? bekaise, if you + didn't, lave off what you're at, and in three skips I'll get you a rasher + and eggs that'll make you look nine ways at once. Here, throw that by, + it's could, and I'll get you something hot and comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” replied Dandy; “I hate idleness. Get the eggs and rasher you + spake of, and while you're doin' it I'll thry and amuse myself wid what's + before me. Industhry's the first of virtues, Nancy, and next to that comes + perseverance; I defy you in the mane time to do a rasher as well as you + did this ham—hoeh—och—och. God bless me, a bit was near + stickin' in my throat. Is your wather good here? and the raison why I ax + you is, that I'm the devil to plaise in wather; and on that account I + seldom take it without a sup o' spirits to dilute it, as the docthors say, + for, indeed, that's the way it agrees with me best. It's a kind of family + failin' with us—devil a one o' my blood ever could look a glass of + mere wather in the face without blushin'.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy was now upon what they call the simplicity dodge; that is to say, he + affected that character of wisdom for which certain individuals, whose + knowledge of life no earthly experience ever can improve, are so extremely + anxious to get credit. Every word he uttered was accompanied by an oafish + grin, so ludicrously balanced between simplicity and cunning, that Nancy, + who had been half her life on the lookout for such a man, and who knew + that this indecision of expression was the characteristic of the tribe + with which she classed him, now saw before her the great dream of her + heart realized. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in troth,” she replied, “you are a quare man; but still it would be + too bad to make you blush for no stronger raison than mere wather. So, in + the name o' goodness, here's a tumbler of grog,” she added, filling him + out one on the instant, “and as you're so modest, you must only drink it + and keep your countenance; it'll prepare you, besides, for the rasher and + eggs; and, by the same token, here's an ould candle-box that's here the + Lord knows how long; but, faix, now it must help to do the rasher. Come + then; if you are stronger than I am, show your strength, and pull it to + pieces, for you see I can't.” + </p> + <p> + It was one of those flat little candle-boxes made of deal, with which + every one in the habit of burning moulds is acquainted. Dandy took it up, + and whilst about to pull it to pieces, observed written on a paper label, + in a large hand, something between writing and print, “Mrs. Norton, + Summerfield Cottage, Wicklow.” + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” said he; “what name is this upon it? Let us see, 'Mrs. + Norton, Summerfield Cottage, Wicklow!' Who the dickens is Mrs. Norton?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my present mistress,” replied Nancy; “Mr. Mainwaring is her second + husband, and her name was Mrs. Norton before she married him.” + </p> + <p> + “Norton,” said Dandy, whose heart was going at full speed, with a hope + that he had at length got into the right track, “it's a purty name in + troth. Arra, Nancy, do you know was your misthress ever in France?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, was she,” replied Nancy. “Many a year maid to—let me see—what's + this the name is? Ay! Cullamore. Maid to the wife of Lord Cullamore. So I + was tould by Alley Mahon, a young woman that was here on a visit to me.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy put the glass of grog to his mouth, and having emptied it, sprung to + his feet, commenced an Irish jig through the kitchen, in a spirit so + outrageously whimsical—buoyant, mad, hugging the box all the time in + his arms, that poor Nancy looked at him with a degree of alarm and then of + jealousy which she could not conceal. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of all that's wonderful,” she exclaimed, “what's wrong—what's + the matter? What's the value of that blackguard box that you make the + mistake about in huggin' it that way? Upon my conscience, one would think + you're in a desolate island. Remember, man alive, that you're among flesh + and blood like your own, and that you have friends, although the + acquaintance isn't very long, I grant, that wishes you betther than to see + you makin' a sweetheart of a tallow-box. What the sorra is that worth?” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred pounds, my darlin'—a hundred pounds—bravo, Dandy—well + done, brave Dulcimer—wealthy Nancy. Faith, you may swear upon the + frying-pan there that I've the cash, and sure 'tis yourself I was lookin' + out for.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think, then, that ever I resembled a candle-box in my life,” she + replied, rather annoyed that the article in question came in for such a + prodigality of his hugs, kisses, and embraces, of all shapes and + characters. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nancy,” said he, “charming Nancy, you're my fancy, but in the + meantime I have the honor and pleasure to bid you a good day.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, where are you goin'?” asked the woman. “Won't you wait for the + rasher?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep it hot, charming Nancy, till I come back; I'm just goin' to take a + constitutional walk.” So saying, Dandy, with the candle-box under his arm, + darted out of the kitchen, and without waiting to know whether there was + an answer to be brought back or not, mounted his jarvey, and desiring the + man to drive as if the devil and all his imps were at their heels, set off + at full speed for the city. + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck to you for a scamp,” exclaimed the indignant cook, shouting + after him; “is that the way you trate a decent woman after gettin' your + skinful of the best? Wait till you put your nose in this kitchen again, + an' it'a different fare you'll get.” + </p> + <p> + On reaching his master's hotel, Dandy went upstairs, where he found him + preparing to go out. He had just sealed a note, and leaning himself back + on the chair, looked at his servant with a good deal of surprise, in + consequence of the singularity of Ms manner. Dandy, on the other hand, + took the candle-box from under his arm, and putting it flat on the table, + with the label downwards, placed his two hands upon it, and looked the + other right in the face; after which he closed one eye, and gave him a + very knowing wink. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, you scoundrel, by this impudence?” exclaimed his + master, although at the same time he could not avoid laughing; for, in + truth, he felt a kind of presentiment, grounded upon Dandy's very + assurance, that he was the bearer of some agreeable intelligence. “What do + you mean, sirra? You're drunk, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Hi tell you what, sir,” replied Dandy, “from this day out, upon my soul, + I'll patronize you like a man as I am; that is to say, provided you + continue to deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, sirra, you're at your buffoonery again, or else you're drunk, as I + said. Did the lady send any reply?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any cash to spare?” replied Dandy. “I want to invest a thrifle + in the funds.” + </p> + <p> + “What can this impudence mean, sirra?” asked the other, sadly puzzled to + understand his conduct. “Why do you not reply to me? Did the lady send an + answer?” + </p> + <p> + “Most fortunate of all masthers,” replied Dandy, “in havin' such a + servant; the lady did send an answer.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is it, sirra?” + </p> + <p> + “There it is!” replied the other, shoving the candle-box triumphantly over + to him, The stranger looked steadily at him, and was beginning to lose his + temper, for he took it now for granted that his servant was drunk. + </p> + <p> + “I shall dismiss you instantly, sirra,” he said, “if you don't come to + your senses.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” replied the other, still maintaining his cool, unabashed + effrontery. “I dare say you will, just after I've made a man of you—changed + you from nothing to something, or, rather, from nobody—for devil a + much more you were up to the present time yet—to somebody. In the + meantime, read the lady's answer, if you plaise.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is it, you impudent knave? I see no note—no answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, sir, I am afeared many a time you were ornamented with the dunce's + cap in your school-days, and well, I'll be bound, you became it. Don't I + say the answer's before you, there?” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing here, you scoundrel, but a deal box.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight, sir; and a deal of intelligence can it give you, if you have the + sense to find it out. Now, listen, sir. So long as you live, ever and + always examine both sides of every subject that comes before you, even if + it was an ould deal box.” + </p> + <p> + His master took the hint, and instantly turning the box, read to his + astonishment, Mrs. Norton, Summerfield pottage, Wicklow, and then looked + at Dandy for an explanation. The latter nodded with his usual easy + confidence, and proceeded, “It's all right, sir—she was in France—own + maid to Lady Cullamore—came home and got married—first to a + Mr. Norton, and next to a person named Mainwarin': and there she is, the + true Mrs. Norton, safe and sound for you, in Summerfield Cottage, under + the name of Mrs. Mainwarin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Dandy,” said his master, starting to his feet, “I forgive you a thousand + times. Throw that letter in the post-office. You shall have the money, + Dandy, more, perhaps, than I promised, provided this is the lady; but I + cannot doubt it. I am now going to Mr. Birney; but, stay, let us be + certain. How did you become acquainted with these circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + Dandy gave him his authority; after which his master put on his hat, and + was about proceeding out, when the former exclaimed, “Hello-sir, where are + you goin'?” + </p> + <p> + “To see Birney, I have already told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” replied his man, “take your time—be steady, now—be + cool—and listen to what your friend has to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't trifle with me now, Dandy; I really can't bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, but you must, though. There's one act I patronized you in; now, + how do you know, as I'm actin' the great man, but I can pathronize you in + another?” + </p> + <p> + “How is that? For heaven's sake, don't trifle with me; every day, every + hour, every moment, is precious, and may involve the happiness of—” + </p> + <p> + “I see, sir,” replied this extraordinary valet, with an intelligent nod, + “but, still, fair and aisy goes far in a day. There's no danger of her, + you know—don't be unaisy. Fenton, sir—ehem—Fenton, I say—Fenton + and fifty I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Fenton and a hundred, Dandy, if there's an available trace of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you call an available trace,” replied Dandy, “but I can + send you to a lady who knows where he is, and where you can find him.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger returned from the door, and sitting down again covered his + face with his hands, as if to collect himself; at length he said, “This is + most extraordinary; tell me all about it.” + </p> + <p> + Dandy related that with which the reader is already acquainted, and did so + with such an air of comic gravity and pompous superiority, that his + master, now in the best possible spirits, was exceedingly amused. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dandy,” said he, “if your information respecting Fenton prove + correct, reckon upon another hundred, instead of the fifty I mentioned. I + suppose I may go now?” he added, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Dandy, still maintaining his gravity, waved his hand with an air of + suitable authority, intimating that the other had permission to depart. On + going out, however, he said, “I beg your pardon, sir, but while you're + abroad, I'd take it as a favor if you'd find out the state o' the funds. + Of course, I'll be investin'; and a man may as well do things with his + eyes open—may as well examine both sides o' the candle-box, you + know. You may go, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” thought the stranger to himself, as he literally went on his way + rejoicing toward Birney's office, “no man in this life should ever yield + to despair. Here was I this morning encompassed by doubt and darkness, and + I may almost say by despair itself. Yet see how easily and naturally the + hand of Providence, for it is nothing less, has changed the whole tenor of + my existence. Everything is beginning not only to brighten, but to present + an appearance of order, by which we shall, I trust, be enabled to guide + ourselves through the maze of difficulty that lies, or that did lie, at + all events, before us. Alas, if the wretched suicide, who can see nothing + but cause of despondency about him and before him, were to reflect upon + the possibility of what only one day might evolve from the ongoing + circumstances of life, how many would that wholesome reflection prevent + from the awful crime of impatience at the wisdom of God, and a want of + confidence in his government! I remember the case of an unhappy young man + who plunged into a future life, as it were, to-day, who, had he maintained + his part until the next, would have found himself master of thousands. No; + I shall never despair. I will in this, as in every other virtue, imitate + my beloved Lucy, who said, that to whatever depths of wretchedness life + might bring her, she would never yield to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news, Birney!” he exclaimed, on entering that gentleman's office; + “charming intelligence! Both are found at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, my dear sir,” replied the other; “how is it? What has + happened? Both of whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Norton and Fenton.” + </p> + <p> + He then explained the circumstances as they had been explained to himself + by Dandy; and Birney seemed gratified certainly, but not so much as the + stranger thought he ought to have been. + </p> + <p> + “How is this?” he asked; “this discovery, this double discovery, does not + seem to give you the satisfaction which I had expected, it would?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” replied the steady man of law, “but I am highly gratified, + notwithstanding, provided everything you tell me turns out to be correct. + But even then, I apprehend that the testimony of this Mrs. Norton, + unsupported as it is by documentary evidence, will not be: sufficient for + our purpose. It will require corroboration, and how are we to corroborate + it?” + </p> + <p> + “If it will enable us to prevent the marriage,” replied the other, “I am + satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very generous and disinterested, I grant,” said Birney, “and what + few are capable of; but still there are forms of law and principles of + common justice to be observed and complied with; and these, at present, + stand in our way for want of the documentary evidence I speak of.” + </p> + <p> + “What then ought our next step to be?—but I suppose I can anticipate + you—to see Mrs. Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, to see Mrs. Norton; and I propose that we start immediately. + There is no time to be lost about it. I shall get on my boots, and change + my dress a little, and, with this man of yours to guide us, we shall be on + the way to Summerfield Cottage in half-an-hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Should I not communicate this intelligence to Lady Gourlay?” said the + stranger. “It will restore her to life; and surely the removal of only one + day's sorrow such as lies at her heart becomes a duty.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose our information should prove incorrect, into what a dreadful + relapse would you plunge her then!” + </p> + <p> + “On, very true—very true, indeed: that is well thought of; let us + first see that there is no mistake, and afterwards we can proceed with + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Lucy, unconscious that the events we have related had taken place, + was passing an existence of which every day brought round to her nothing + but anguish and misery. She now not only refused to see her brother on any + occasion, or under any circumstances, but requested an interview with her + father, in order to make him acquainted with the abominable principles, by + the inculcation of which, as a rule of life and conduct, he had attempted + to corrupt her. Her father having heard this portion of her complaint, + diminished in its heinousness as it necessarily was by her natural + modesty, appeared very angry, and swore roundly at the young scapegrace, + as he called him. + </p> + <p> + “But the truth is, Lucy,” he added, “that however wrong and wicked he may + have been, and was, yet we cannot be over severe on him. He has had no + opportunities of knowing better, and of course he will mend. I intend to + lecture him severely for uttering such principles to you; but, on the + other hand, I know him to be a shrewd, keen young fellow, who promises + well, notwithstanding. In truth, I like him, scamp as he is; and I believe + that whatever is bad in him—” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever is bad in him! Why, papa, there is nothing good in him.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, Lucy; I believe, I say, that whatever is bad in him he has picked up + from the kind of society he mixed with.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” she replied, “it grieves me to hear you, sir, palliate the conduct + of such a person—to become almost the apologist of principles so + utterly fiendish. You know that I am not and never have been in the habit + of using ungenerous language against the absent. So far as I am concerned, + he has violated all the claims of a brother—has foregone all title + to a sister's love; but that is not all—I believe him to be so + essentially corrupt and vicious in heart and soul, so thoroughly and + blackly diabolical in his principles—moral I cannot call them—that + I would stake my existence he is some base and plotting impostor, in whose + veins there flows not one single drop of my pure-hearted mother's blood. I + therefore warn you, sir, that he is an impostor, with, perhaps, a + dishonorable title to your name, but none at all to your property.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, you foolish girl. Is he not my image?” + </p> + <p> + “I admit he resembles you, sir, very much, and I do not deny that he may + be”—she paused, and alternately became pale and red by turns—“what + I mean to say, sir, is what I have already said, that he is not my + mother's son, and that although he may be privileged to bear your name, he + has no claim on either your property or title. Does it not strike you, + sir, that it might be to make way for this person that my legitimate + brother was removed long ago? And I have also heard yourself say + frequently, while talking of my brother, how extremely like mamma and me + he was.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no doubt he was,” replied her father, somewhat struck by the + force of her observations; “and I was myself a good deal surprised at the + change which must have taken place in him since his childhood. However, + you know he accounted for this himself very fairly and very naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “Very ingeniously, at least,” she replied; “with more of ingenuity, I + fear, than truth. Now, sir, hear me further. You are aware that I never + liked those Corbets, who have been always so deeply, and, excuse me, sir, + so mysteriously in your confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lucy, I know you never did; but that is a prejudice you inherited + from your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I appeal to your own conscience, sir, whether mamma's prejudice against + them was not just and well founded. Yet it was not so much prejudice as + the antipathy which good bears to evil, honesty to fraud, and truth to + darkness, dissimulation, and falsehood. I entreat you, then, to + investigate this matter, papa; for as sure as I have life, so certainly + was my dear brother removed, in order, at the proper time, to make way for + this impostor. You know not, sir, but there may be a base and inhuman + murder involved in this matter—nay, a double murder—that of my + cousin, too; yes, and the worst of all murders, the murder of the innocent + and defenceless. As a man, as a magistrate, but, above all, a thousand + times, as a father—as the father and uncle of the very two children + that have disappeared, it becomes your duty to examine into this dark + business thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no reason to suspect the Corbets, Lucy. I have ever found them + faithful to me and to my interests.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, sir, you have ever found them obsequious and slavish and ready to + abet you in many acts which I regret that you ever committed. There is the + case of that unfortunate man, Trailcudgel, and many similar ones; were + they not as active and cheerful! in bearing out your very harsh orders + against him and others of your tenantry, as if they I had been advancing + the cause of humanity?” + </p> + <p> + “Say the cause of justice, if you please, Lucy—the rights of a + landlord.” + </p> + <p> + “But, papa, if the unfortunate tenantry by whose toil and labor we live in + affluence and; luxury do not find a friend in their landlord, who is, by + his relation to them, their natural protector, to whom else in the wide + world can they turn? This, however, is not the subject on which I wish to + speak. I do believe that Thomas Corbet is deep, designing, and vindictive. + He was always a close, dark man, without either cheerfulness or candor. + Beware, therefore, of him and of his family. Nay, he has a capacity for + being dangerous; for it strikes me, sir, that his intellect is as far + above his position in life as his principles are beneath it.” + </p> + <p> + There was much in what Lucy said that forced itself upon her father's + reflection, much that startled him, and a good deal that gave him pain. He + paused for a considerable time after she had ceased to speak, and said, + </p> + <p> + “I will think of these matters, Lucy. I will probably do more; and if I + find that they have played me foul by imposing upon me—” He paused + abruptly, and seemed embarrassed, the truth being that he knew and felt + how completely he was in their power. + </p> + <p> + “Now, papa,” said Lucy, “after having heard my opinion of this young man—after + the wanton outrage upon all female delicacy and virtue of which he has + been guilty, I trust you will not in future attempt to obtrude him upon + me. I will not see him, speak to him, nor acknowledge him; and such, let + what may happen, is my final determination.” + </p> + <p> + “So far, Lucy, I will accede to your wishes. I shall take care that he + troubles you with no more wicked exhortations.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear papa; this is kind, and I feel it so.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said her father, after she had withdrawn, “how am I to act? It is + not impossible but there may be much truth in what she says. I remember, + however, the death of the only son that could possibly be imposed on me in + the sense alluded to her. He surely does not live; or if he does, the + far-sighted sagacity which made the account of his death a fraud upon my + credulity, for such selfish and treacherous purposes, is worthy of being + concocted in the deepest pit of hell. Yet that some one of them has + betrayed me, is evident from the charges brought against me by this + stranger to whom Lucy is so devotedly attached, and which charges Thomas + Corbet could not clear up. If one of these base but dexterous villains, or + if the whole gang were to outwit me, positively I could almost blow my + very brains out, for allowing myself, after all, to become their dupe and + plaything. I will think of it, however. And again, there is the likeness; + there does seem to be a difficulty in that; for, beyond all doubt, my + legitimate child, up until his disappearance, did not bear in his + countenance a single feature of mine but bore a strong resemblance to his + mother; whereas this Tom is my born image! Yet I like him. He has all my + points; knows the world, and despises it as much as I do. He did not know + Lucy, however, or he would have kept his worldly opinions to himself. It + is true he said very little but what we see about us as the regulating + principles of life every day; but Lucy, on the other hand, is no every-day + girl, and will not receive such doctrines, and I am glad of it They may do + very well in a son; but somehow one shudders at the contemplation of their + existence in the heart and principles of a daughter. Unfortunately, + however I am in the power of these Corbets, and I feel that exposure at + this period, the crisis of my daughter's marriage, would not only + frustrate my ambition for her, but occasion my very death, I fear. I know + not how it is, but I think if I were to live my life over again, I would + try a different course.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. An Unpleasant Disclosure to Dunroe + </h2> + <h3> + —Anthony Corbet gives Important Documents to the Stranger—Norton + catches a Tartar. + </h3> + <p> + The next morning the stranger was agreeably surprised by seeing the round, + rosy, and benevolent features of Father M'Mahon, as he presented himself + at his breakfast table. Their meeting was cordial and friendly, with the + exception of a slight appearance of embarrassment that was evident in the + manner of the priest. + </p> + <p> + “The last time you were in town,” said the former, “I was sorry to observe + thai you seemed rather careworn and depressed; but I think you look better + now, and a good deal more cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + “And I think I have a good right,” replied the priest; “and I think no man + ought to know the, cause of it better than yourself. I charge it, sir, + with an act of benevolence to the poor of my parish, through their humble + pastor; for which you stand.—I beg your pardon—sit there, a + guilty man.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” asked the other, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “By means of an anonymous letter that contained a hundred pound note, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the stranger, “there is no use in telling a falsehood about + it. The truth is, I was aware of the extent to which you involved + yourself, in order to relieve many of the small farmers and other + struggling persons of good repute in your parish, and I thought it too bad + that you should suffer distress yourself, who had so frequently relieved + it in others.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my friend,” replied the priest; “for I will call you so. I + wish every man possessed of wealth was guided by your principles. Freney + the Robber has a new saddle and bridle, anyhow; and I came up to town to + pay old Anthony Corbet a sum I borrowed from him the last time I was + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have you seen that cautious and disagreeable old man? We could make + nothing of him, although I feel quite certain that he knows everything + connected with the disappearance of Lady Gourlay's son.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt of it myself,” replied the priest; “and I now find, that + what neither religion, nor justice, nor humanity could influence him to + do, superstition is likely to effect. He has had a drame, he says, in + which his son James that was in Lady Gourlay's service has appeared to + him, and threatens that unless he renders her justice, he has but a poor + chance in the other world.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not at all unnatural,” said the stranger; “the man, though + utterly without religion, was nevertheless both hesitating and timid; + precisely the character to do a just act from a wrong motive.” + </p> + <p> + “Be that as it may,” continued the priest, “I have a message from him to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “To me!” replied the other. “I am much obliged to him, but it is now too + late. We have ascertained where Lady Gourlay's son is, without any + assistance from him; and in the course of this very day we shall furnish + ourselves with proper authority for claiming and producing him.” + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted to hear it,” said the priest. “God be praised that the + heart of that charitable and Christian woman will be relieved at last, and + made happy; but still I say, see old Anthony. He is as deep as a + draw-well, and as close as an oyster. See him, sir. Take my advice, now + that the drame has frightened him, and call upon the old sinner. He may + serve you in more ways than you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as you advise me to do so, I shall; but I do not relish the old + fellow at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody does, nor ever did. He and all his family lived as if every one of + them carried a little world of their own within them. Maybe they do; and + God forgive me for saying it, but I don't think if its secrets were known, + that it would be found a very pleasant world. May the Lord change them, + and turn their hearts!” + </p> + <p> + After some further chat, the priest took his departure, but promised to + see his friend from time to time, before he should leave town. + </p> + <p> + The stranger felt that the priest's advice to see old Corbet again was a + good one. The interview could do no harm, and might be productive of some + good, provided he could be prevailed on to speak out. He accordingly + directed his steps once more to Constitution Hill, where he found the old + man at his usual post behind the counter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Corbet,” said he, “alive still?” + </p> + <p> + “Alive still, sir,” he replied; “but can't be so always; the best of us + must go.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, Corbet, if we could think of it as we ought; but, somehow, it + happens that most people live in this world as if they were never to die.” + </p> + <p> + “That's too true, sir—unfortunately too true, God help us!” + </p> + <p> + “Corbet,” proceeded the stranger, “nothing can convince me that you don't + know something about—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” said the old man; “we had betther go into the + next room. Here, Polly,” he shouted to his wife, who was inside, “will you + come and stand the shop awhile?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I will,” replied the old woman, making her appearance. “How do + you do, sir,” she added, addressing the stranger; “I am glad to see you + looking so well.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, madam,” replied the stranger: “I can return the compliment, as + they say.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep the shop, Polly,” said the old man sharply, “and don't make the same + mistake you made awhile ago—give away a stone o' meal for half a + stone. No wondher for us to be poor at sich a rate of doin' things as + that. Walk in, if you plaise, sir.” + </p> + <p> + They accordingly entered the room, and the stranger, after they had taken + seats, resumed, + </p> + <p> + “I was going to say, Corbet, that nothing can convince me that you don't + know more about the disappearance of Lady Gourlay's heir than you are + disposed to acknowledge.” + </p> + <p> + The hard, severe, disagreeable expression returned once more to his + features, as he replied, + </p> + <p> + “Troth, sir, it appears you will believe so, whether or not. But now, sir, + in case I did, what would you say? I'm talkin' for supposition's sake, + mind. Wouldn't a man desarve something that could give you information on + the subject?” + </p> + <p> + “This avaricious old man,” thought the stranger, pausing as if to consider + the proposition, “was holding us out all along, in order to make the most + of his information. The information, however, is already in our + possession, and he comes too late. So far I am gratified that we are in a + position to punish him by disappointing his avarice.” + </p> + <p> + “We would, Corbet, if the information were necessary, but at present it is + not; we don't require it.” + </p> + <p> + Corbet started, and his keen old eyes gleamed with an expression between + terror and incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said he, “you don't require it! Are you sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly so. Some time ago we would have rewarded you liberally, had you + made any available disclosure to us; but now it is too late. The + information we had been seeking for so anxiously, accidentally came to us + from another quarter. You see now, Corbet, how you have overshot the mark, + and punished yourself. Had you been influenced by a principle of common + justice, you would have been entitled to expect and receive a most ample + compensation; a compensation beyond your hopes, probably beyond your very + wishes, and certainly beyond your wants. As matters stand, however, I tell + you now that I would not give you sixpence for any information you could + communicate.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony gave him a derisive look, and pursed up his thin miser-like lips + into a grin of most sinister triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't you, indeed?” said he. “Are you quite sure of what you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite certain of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, how positive some people is. You have found him out, then?” he + asked, with a shrewd look. “You have found him, and you don't require any + information from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether we have found him or not,” replied the other, “is a question + which I will not answer; but that we require no information from you, is + fact. While it was a marketable commodity, you refused to dispose of it; + but, now, we have got the supply elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said Anthony, “all I can say is, that I'm very glad to hear + it; and it's no harm, surely, to wish you joy of it.” + </p> + <p> + The same mocking sneer which accompanied this observation was perfectly + vexatious; it seemed to say, “So you think, but you may be mistaken, Take + care that I haven't you in my power still.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you look in that disagreeable way, Corbet? I never saw a man whose + face can express one thing, and his words another, so effectually as + yours, when you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “You mane to say, sir,” he returned, with a true sardonic smile, “that my + face isn't an obedient face; but sure I can't help that. This is the face + that God has given me, and I must be content with it, such as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “I was told this morning by Father M'Mahon,” replied the other, anxious to + get rid of him as soon as he could, “that you had expressed a wish to see + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I did say something to that effect; but then it appears you + know everything yourself, and don't want my assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “Any assistance we may at a future time require at your hands we shall be + able to extort from you through the laws of the land and of justice; and + if it appears that you have been an accomplice or agent in such a deep and + diabolical crime, neither power, nor wealth, nor cunning, shall be able to + protect you from the utmost rigor of the law. You had neither mercy nor + compassion on the widow or her child; and the probability is, that, old as + you are, you will be made to taste the deepest disgrace, and the heaviest + punishment that can be annexed to the crime you have committed.” + </p> + <p> + A singular change came over the features of the old man. Paleness in age, + especially when conscience bears its secret but powerful testimony against + the individual thus charged home as Corbet was, sometimes gives an awful, + almost an appalling expression to the countenance. The stranger, who knew + that the man he addressed, though cunning, evasive, and unscrupulous, was, + nevertheless, hesitating and timid, saw by his looks that he had produced + an unusual impression; and he resolved to follow it up, rather to gratify + the momentary amusement which he felt at his alarm, than from any other + motive. In fact, the appearance of Corbet was extraordinary. A death-like + color, which his advanced state of life renders it impossible to describe, + took possession of him; his eyes lost the bitter expression so peculiar to + them—his firm thin lips relaxed and spread, and the corners of his + mouth dropped so lugubriously, that the stranger, although he felt that + the example of cowering guilt then before him was a solemn one, could + scarcely refrain from smiling at what he witnessed. + </p> + <p> + “How far now do you think, sir,” asked Corbet, “could punishment in such a + case go? Mind, I'm putting myself out of the question; I'm safe, any how, + and that's one comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “For a reply to that question,” returned the other, “you will have to go + to the judge and the hangman. There was a time when you might have asked + it, and answered it too, with safety to yourself; but now that time has + gone by, and I fear very much that your day of grace is past.” + </p> + <p> + “That's very like what James tould me in my dhrame,” said the old man, in + a soliloquy, dictated by his alarm. “Well, sir,” he replied, “maybe, + afther all—but didn't you say awhile ago that you wouldn't give + sixpence for any information I could furnish you with?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, and I do.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of his former character returned to his eye, as, gathering up his + lips again, 'he said, “I could soon show you to the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you will not do so. I see clearly that you are infatuated. It + appears to me that there is an evil fate hanging over you, like some + hungry raven, following and watching the motions of a sick old horse that + is reduced to skin and bone. You're doomed, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” replied Anthony, the corners of whose mouth dropped again at + this startling and not inappropriate comparison, “to show how much you are + mistaken, let me ask how your business with Lord Cullamore gets on? I + believe there's a screw loose there?—eh? I mean on your side—eh?” + </p> + <p> + It wasn't in his nature to restrain the sinister expression which a + consciousness of his advantage over the stranger caused him to feel in his + turn. The grin, besides, which he gave him, after he had thrown out these + hints, had something of reprisal in it; and, to tell the truth, the + stranger's face now became as blank and lugubrious as Anthony's had been + before. + </p> + <p> + “If I don't mistake,” he continued—for the other was too much + astonished to reply, “if I don't mistake, there's a couple o' bits of + paper that would stand your friend, if you could lay your claws upon + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether they could, or could not, is no affair of yours, my good sir,” + replied the stranger, rising and getting his hat; “and whether I have + changed my mind on the subject you hint at is a matter known only to + myself. I wish you good-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Anthony, probably satisfied with the fact of his + having turned the tables and had his revenge on the stranger; “I beg your + pardon, sir. Let us part friends, at all events. Set in case now—” + </p> + <p> + “I will listen to none of those half sentences. You cannot possibly speak + out, I see; in fact, you are tongue-tied by the cord of your evil fate. + Upon no subject can you speak until it is too late.” + </p> + <p> + “God direct me now!” exclaimed Corbet to himself. “I think the time is + come; for, unless I relieve my conscience before I'm called—James he + tould me the other night—Well, sir,” he proceeded, “listen. If I + befriend you, will you promise to stand my friend, if I should get into + any difficulty?” + </p> + <p> + “I will enter into no compromise of the kind with you,” said the other. + “If you are about to do an act of justice, you ought to do it without + conditions; and if you possess any document that is of value to another, + and of none to yourself, and yet will not restore it to the proper owner, + you are grossly dishonest, and capable of all that will soon, I trust, be + established against you and your employers. Good-by, Mr. Corbet.” + </p> + <p> + “Aisy, sir, aisy,” said the tenacious and vacillating old knave. “Aisy, I + say. You will be generous, at any rate; for you know their value. How much + will you give me for the papers I spake of—that is, in case I could + get them for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not sixpence. A friend has just returned from France, who—no,” + thought he, “I will not state a falsehood—Good-day, Mr. Corbet; I am + wasting my time.” + </p> + <p> + “One minute, sir—one minute. It may be worth your while.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you trifle with me by these reluctant and penurious + communications.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony had laid down his head upon his hands, whose backs were supported + by the table; and in this position, as' if he were working himself into an + act of virtue sufficient for a last effort, he remained until the stranger + began to wonder what he meant. At length he arose, went up stairs as on a + former occasion, but with less—and not much less—hesitation + and delay; he returned and handed him the identical documents of which + M'Bride had deprived him. “Now,” said he, “listen to me. You know the + value of these; but that isn't what I want to spake to you about.—Whatever + you do about the widow's son, don't do it without lettin' me know, and + consultin' me—ay, and bein' guided by me; for although you all think + yourselves right, you may find, yourselves in the wrong box still. Think + of this now, and it will be better for you. I'm not sure, but I'll open + all your eyes yet, and that before long; for I believe the time has come + at last. Now that I've given you these papers,” (extracted, by the way, + from M'Bride's pockets during his drunkenness, by Ginty Cooper, on the + night she dogged him,) “you must promise me one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you know where this boy is? Now, when you're goin' to find him, + will you bring me with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “It'll plaise an ould man, at any rate; but there may be other raisons. + Will, you do this?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger, concluding that the wisest tiring was to give him his way, + promised accordingly, and. the old man seemed somewhat satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “One man, at all events, I'll punish, if I should sacrifice every child I + have in doin' so; and it is in order that he may be punished to the heart—to + the marrow—to the soul within him—that I got these papers, and + gave them to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Corbet,” said the stranger, “be the cause of your revenge what it may, + its principle in your heart is awful. You are, in fact, a dreadful old + man. May I ask how you came by these papers?” + </p> + <p> + “You may,” he replied; “but I won't answer you. At a future time it is + likely I will—but not now. It's enough for you to have them.” + </p> + <p> + On his way home the stranger called at Birney's office, where he produced + the documents; and it was arranged that the latter gentleman should wait + upon Lord Cullamore the next day, in order to lay before him the proofs on + which they were about to proceed; for, as they were now complete, they + thought it more respectful to that venerable old nobleman to appeal + privately to his own good sense, whether it would not be more for the + honor of his family to give him an opportunity of yielding quietly, and + without public scandal, than to drag the matter before the world in a + court of justice. It was so arranged; and a suitable warrant having been + procured to enable them to produce the body of the unfortunate Fenton, the + proceedings of that day closed very much to their satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + The next day, between two and three o'clock, a visitor, on particular + business, was announced to Lord Cullamore; and on being desired to walk + up, our friend Birney made his bow to his lordship. Having been desired to + take a seat, he sat down, and his lordship, who appeared to be very + feeble, looked inquiringly at him, intimating thereby that he waited to + know the object of his visit. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said the attorney, “in the whole course of my professional + life, a duty so painful as this has never devolved upon me. I come + supported with proofs sufficient to satisfy you that your title and + property cannot descend to your son, Lord Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no other son, sir,” said his lordship, reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean to insinuate that you have, my lord. I only assert that he + who is supposed to be the present heir, is not really so at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon what proofs, sir, do you ground that assertion?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon proofs, my lord, the most valid and irrefragable; proofs that cannot + be questioned, even for a moment; and, least of all, by your lordship, who + are best acquainted with their force and authenticity.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you got them about you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have got copies of the documentary proofs, my lord, and I shall now + place them before you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; have the goodness to let me see them.” + </p> + <p> + Birney immediately handed him the documents, and mentioned the facts of + which they were the proofs. In fact, only one of them was absolutely + necessary, and that was simply the record of a death duly and regularly + attested. + </p> + <p> + The old man seemed struck with dismay; for, until this moment he had not + been clearly in possession of the facts which were now brought against + him, as they were stated, and made plain as to their results, by Mr. + Birney. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know much of law,” he said, “but enough, I think, to satisfy me, + that unless you have other and stronger proofs than this, you cannot + succeed in disinheriting my son. I have seen the originals of those + before, but I had forgotten some facts and dates connected with them at + the time.” + </p> + <p> + “We have the collateral proof you speak of, my lord, and can produce + personal evidence to corroborate those which I have shown you.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask who that evidence is?” + </p> + <p> + “A Mrs. Mainwaring, my lord—formerly Norton—who had been maid + to your first wife while she resided privately in Prance—was a + witness to her death, and had it duly registered.” + </p> + <p> + “But even granting this, I think you will be called on to prove the + intention on my part: that which a man does in ignorance cannot, and ought + not to be called a violation of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “But the law in this case will deal only with facts, my lord; and your + lordship must now see and feel that we are in a capacity to prove them. + And before I proceed further, my lord, I beg to say, that I am instructed + to appeal to your lordship's good sense, and to that consideration for the + feelings of your family, by which, I trust, you will be influenced, + whether, satisfied as you must be of your position, it would not be more + judicious on your own part to concede our just rights, seeing, as you + clearly may, that they are incontrovertible, than to force us to bring the + matter before the public; a circumstance which, so far as you are yourself + concerned, must be inexpressibly painful, and as regards other members of + your family, perfectly deplorable and distressing. We wish, my lord, to + spare the innocent as much as we can.” + </p> + <p> + “I am innocent, sir; your proofs only establish an act done by me in + ignorance.” + </p> + <p> + “We grant that, my lord, at once, and without for a moment charging you + with any dishonorable motive; but what we insist on—can prove—and + your lordship cannot deny—is, that the act you speak of was done, + and done at a certain period. I do beseech you, my lord, to think well and + seriously of my proposal, for it is made in a kind and respectful spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir,” replied his lordship, “and those who instructed you to + regard my feelings; but this you must admit is a case of too much + importance, in which interests of too much consequence are involved, for + me to act in it without the advice and opinion of my lawyers.” + </p> + <p> + “You are perfectly right, my lord; I expected no less; and if your + lordship will refer me to them, I shall have no hesitation in laying the + grounds of our proceedings before them, and the proofs by which they will + be sustained.” + </p> + <p> + This was assented to on the part of Lord Cullamore, and it is only + necessary to say, that, in a few days subsequently, his lawyers, upon + sifting and thoroughly examining everything that came before them, gave it + as their opinion—and both were men of the very highest standing—that + his lordship had no defence whatsoever, and that his wisest plan was to + yield without allowing the matter to go to a public trial, the details of + which must so deeply affect the honor of his children. + </p> + <p> + This communication, signed in the form of a regular opinion by both these + eminent gentlemen, was received by his lordship on the fourth day after + Birney's visit to him on the subject. + </p> + <p> + About a quarter of an hour after he had perused it, his lordship's bell + rang, and Morty O'Flaherty, his man, entered. + </p> + <p> + “Morty,” said his lordship, “desire Lord Dunroe to come to me; I wish to + speak with him. Is he within?” + </p> + <p> + “He has just come in, my lord. Yes, my lord, I'll send him up.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship tapped the arms of his easy chair with the lingers of both + hands, and looked unconsciously upon his servant, with a face full of the + deepest sorrow and anguish. + </p> + <p> + The look was not lost upon Morty, who said, as he went down stairs, + “There's something beyond the common on my lord's mind this day. He was + bad enough before; but now he looks like a man that has got the very heart + within him broken.” + </p> + <p> + He met Dunroe in the hall, and delivered his message, but added, + </p> + <p> + “I think his lordship has had disagreeable tidin's of some kind to-day, my + lord. I never saw him look so ill. To tell you the truth, my lord, I think + he has death in his face.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Morty,” replied his lordship, adjusting his collar, “you know we + must all die. I cannot guess what unpleasant tidings he may have heard + to-day; but I know that I have heard little else from him this many a day. + Tell Mr. Norton to see about the bills I gave him, and have them cashed as + soon as possible. If not, curse me, I'll shy a decanter at his head after + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + He then went rather reluctantly up stairs, and presented himself, in no + very amiable temper, to his father. + </p> + <p> + Having taken a seat, he looked at the old man, and found his eyes fixed + upon him with an expression of reproof, and at the same time the most + profound affliction. + </p> + <p> + “Dunroe,” said the earl, “you did not call to inquire after me for the + last two or three days.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not call, my lord, certainly; but, nevertheless, I inquired. The + fact is, I feel disinclined to be lectured at such a rate every time I + come to see you. As for Norton, I have already told you, with every + respect for your opinion and authority, that you have taken an unfounded + prejudice against him, and that I neither can nor will get rid of him, as + you call it. You surely would not expect me to act dishonorably, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not send for you now to speak about him, John. I have a much more + serious, and a much more distressing communication to make to you.” + </p> + <p> + The son opened his eyes, and stared at him. + </p> + <p> + “It may easily be so, my lord; but what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunate young man, it is this—You are cut off from the + inheritance of my property and title.” + </p> + <p> + “Sickness, my lord, and peevishness, have impaired your intellects, I + think. What kind of language is this to hold to me, your son and heir?” + </p> + <p> + “My son, John, but not my heir.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know, my lord, that what you say is impossible. If I am your + son, I am, of course, your heir.” + </p> + <p> + “No, John, for the simplest reason in the world. At present you must rest + contented with the fact which I announce to you—for fact it is. I + have not now strength enough to detail it; but I shall when I feel that I + am equal to it. Indeed, I knew it not myself, with perfect certainty, + until to-day. Some vague suspicion I had of late, but the proofs that were + laid before me, and laid before me in a generous and forbearing spirit, + have now satisfied me that you have no claim, as I said, to either title + or property.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as I've life, my lord, this is mere dotage. A foul conspiracy has + been got up, and you yield to it without a struggle. Do you think, + whatever you may do, that I will bear this tamely? I am aware that a + conspiracy has been getting up, and I also have had my suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + “It is out of my power, John, to secure you the inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + “This is stark folly, my lord—confounded nonsense—if you will + pardon me. Out of your power! Made silly and weak in mind by illness, your + opinion is not now worth much upon any subject. It is not your fault, I + admit; but, upon my soul, I really have serious doubts whether you are in + a sufficiently sane state of mind to manage your own affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Undutiful young man,” replied his father, with bitterness, “if that were + a test of insanity, you yourself ought to have been this many a day in a + strait waistcoat. I know it is natural that you should feel this blow + deeply; but it is neither natural nor dutiful that you should address your + parent in such unpardonable language.” + </p> + <p> + “If what that parent says be true, my lord, he has himself, by his past + vices, disinherited his son.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” replied the old man, whilst a languid flush of indignation was + visible on his face, “he has not done so by his vices; but you, sir, have + morally disinherited yourself by your vices, by your general profligacy, + by your indefensible extravagance, and by your egregious folly, A man + placed in the position which you would have occupied, ought to be a light + and an example to society, and. not what you have been, a reproach to your + family, and a disgrace to your class. The virtues of a man of rank should + be in proportion to his station; but you have distinguished yourself only + by holding up to the world the debasing example of a dishonorable and + licentious life. What virtue can you plead to establish a just claim to a + position which demands a mind capable of understanding the weighty + responsibilities that are annexed to it, and a heart possessed of such + enlightened principles as may enable him to discharge them in a spirit + that will constitute him, what he ought to be, a high example and a + generous benefactor to his kind? Not one: but if selfishness, contempt for + all the moral obligations of life, a licentious spirit that mocks at + religion and looks upon human virtue as an unreality and a jest—if + these were to give you a claim to the possession of rank and property, I + know of no one more admirably qualified to enjoy them. Dunroe, I am not + now far from the grave; but listen, and pay attention to my voice, for it + is a warning voice.” + </p> + <p> + “It was always so,” replied his son, with sulky indignation; “it was never + anything else; a mere passing bell that uttered nothing but advices, + lectures, coffins, and cross-bones.” + </p> + <p> + “It uttered only truth then, Dunroe, as you feel now to your cost. Change + your immoral habits. I will not bid you repent; because you would only + sneer at the word; but do endeavor to feel regret for the kind of life you + have led, and give up your evil propensities; cease to be a heartless + spendthrift; remember that you are a man: remember that you have important + duties to perform; believe that there are such things as religion, and + virtue, and honor in the world; believe that there is a God a wise + Providence, who governs that world upon principles of eternal truth and + justice, and to whom you must account, in another life, for your conduct + in this.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, really, my lord,” replied Dunroe, “as it appears that the lecture + is all you have to bestow upon me, I am quite willing that you should + disinherit me of that also. I waive every claim to it. But so do I not to + my just rights. We shall see what a court of law can do.” + </p> + <p> + “You may try it, and entail disgrace upon yourself and your sister. As for + my child, it will break her heart. My God! my child! my child!” + </p> + <p> + “Not, certainly, my lord, if we should succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “All hopes of success are out of the question,” replied his father. + </p> + <p> + “No such thing, my lord. Your mind, as I said, is enfeebled by illness, + and you yield too easily. Such conduct on your part is really ridiculous. + We shall have a tug for it, I am determined.” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said his father, “cast your eye over these papers, and they will + enable you to understand, not merely the grounds upon which our opponents + proceed, but the utter hopelessness of contesting the matter with them.” + </p> + <p> + Dunroe took the papers, but before looking at them replied, with a great + deal of confidence, “you are quite mistaken there, my lord, with every + respect. They are not in a position to prove their allegations.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” said his father. + </p> + <p> + “For the best reason in the world, my lord. We have had their proofs in + our possession and destroyed them.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “The fellow, M'Bride, of whom I think your lordship knows something, had + their documents in his possession.” + </p> + <p> + “I am aware of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lord, while in a drunken fit, he either lost them, or some one + took them out of his pocket. I certainly would have purchased them from + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you know how he came by them?” asked his father, with a look of + reproof and anger. + </p> + <p> + “That, my lord, was no consideration of mine. As it was, however, he + certainty lost them; but we learned from him that Birney, the attorney, + was about to proceed to France, in order to get fresh attested copies; + upon which, as he knew the party there in whose hands the registry was + kept, Norton and he started a day or two in advance of him, and on + arriving there, they found, much to our advantage, that the register was + dead. M'Bride, however, who is an adroit fellow, and was well acquainted + with his house and premises, contrived to secure the book in which the + original record was made—which book he has burned—so that, in + point of fact, they have no legal proofs on which to proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “Dishonorable man!” said his father, rising up in a state of the deepest + emotion. “You have made me weary of life; you have broken my heart: and so + you would stoop to defend yourself, or your lights, by a crime—by a + crime so low, fraudulent, and base—that here, in the privacy of my + own chamber, and standing face to face with you, I am absolutely ashamed + to call you my son. Know, sir, that if it were a dukedom, I should scorn + to contest it, or to retain it, at the expense of my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very fine talk, my lord; but, upon my soul, wherever I can get + an advantage, I'll take it. I see little of the honor or virtue you speak + of going, and, I do assure you, I won't be considered at all remarkable + for acting up to my own principles. On the contrary, it is by following + yours that I should be so.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said the old man, “that I see the hand of God in this. + Unfortunate, obstinate, and irreclaimable young man, it remains for me to + tell you that the very documents, which you say have been lost by the + villain M'Bride, with whom, in his villainy, you, the son of an earl, did + not hesitate to associate yourself, are now in the possession of our + opponents. Take those papers to your room,” he added, bursting into tears: + “take them away, I am unable to prolong this interview, for it has been to + me a source of deeper affliction than the loss of the highest title or + honor that the hand of royalty could bestow.” + </p> + <p> + When Dunroe was about to leave the room, the old man, who had again sat + down, said: + </p> + <p> + “Stop a moment. Of course it is unnecessary to say, I should hope, that + this union between you and Miss Gourlay cannot proceed.” + </p> + <p> + Dunroe, who felt at once that if he allowed his father to suppose that he + persisted in it, the latter would immediately disclose his position to the + baronet, now replied: + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord, I have no great ambition for any kind of alliance with Sir + Thomas Gourlay. I never liked him personally, and I am sufficiently a man + of spirit, I trust, not to urge a marriage with a girl who—who—cannot + appreciate—” He paused, not knowing exactly how to fill up the + sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Who has no relish for it,” added his father, “and can't appreciate your + virtues, you mean to say.” + </p> + <p> + “What I mean to say, my lord, is, that where there is no great share of + affection on either side, there can be but little prospect of happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you give up the match?” + </p> + <p> + “I give up the match, my lord, without a moment's hesitation. You may rest + assured of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” added his father, “if I found that you persisted in it, and + attempted to enter the family, and impose yourself on this admirable girl, + as that which you are not, I would consider it my duty to acquaint Sir + Thomas Gourlay with the unfortunate discovery which has been made. Before + you go I will thank you to read that letter for me. It comes, I think, + from the Lord Chancellor. My sight is very feeble to-day, and perhaps it + may require a speedy answer.” + </p> + <p> + Dunroe opened the letter, which informed Lord Cullamore, that it had + afforded him, the Lord Chancellor, much satisfaction to promote Periwinkle + Crackenfudge, Esq., to the magistracy of the county of ———, + understanding, as he did, from the communication “of Sir Thomas Gourlay, + enclosed in his lordship's letter, that he (Crackenfudge) was, by his many + virtues, good sense, discretion, humanity, and general esteem among all + classes, as well as by his popularity in the country, a person in every + way fitted to discharge the important duties of such an appointment. + </p> + <p> + “I feel my mind at ease,” said the amiable old nobleman, “in aiding such + an admirable country gentleman as this Crackenfudge must be, to a seat on + the bench; for, after all, Dunroe, it is only by the contemplation of a + good action that we can be happy. You may go.” + </p> + <p> + Some few days passed, when Dunroe, having read the papers, the contents of + which he did not wish Norton to see, returned them to his father in sullen + silence, and then rang his bell, and sent for his worthy associate, that + he might avail himself of his better judgment. + </p> + <p> + “Norton,” said he, “it is all up with us.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Those papers, that M'Bride says he lost, are in the hands of our + enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't believe it, my lord.' I saw the fellow yesterday, and he told me + that he destroyed them in a drunken fit, for which he says he is ready to + cut his throat.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have read the opinion of my father's counsel,” replied his + lordship, “and they say we have no defence. Now you know what a lawyer is: + if there were but a hair-breadth chance, they would never make an + admission that might keep a good fat case from getting into their hands. + No; it is all up with us. The confounded old fool above had everything + laid before them, and such is the upshot. What is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Marriage, without loss of time—marriage, before your disaster + reaches the ears of the Black Baronet.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but there is a difficulty. If the venerable old nobleman should hear + of it, he'd let the cat out of the bag, and leave me in the lurch, in + addition to the penalty of a three hours' lecture upon honor. Everything, + however, is admirably arranged <i>quoad</i> the marriage. We have got a + special license for the purpose of meeting our peculiar case, so that the + marriage can be private; that is to say, can take place in the lady's own + house. Do you think though, that M'Bride has actually destroyed the + papers?” + </p> + <p> + “The drunken ruffian! certainly. He gave me great insolence a couple of + days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I didn't hand him over a hundred pounds for his journey and the + theft of the registry.” + </p> + <p> + “And how much did you give him, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “A fifty pound note, after having paid his expenses, which was quite + enough for him. However, as I did not wish to make the scoundrel our + enemy, I have promised him something more, so that I've come on good terms + with him again. He is a slippery customer.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you get the bills cashed yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord; I am going about it now; but I tell you beforehand, that I + will have some difficulty in doing it. I hope to manage it, however; and + for that reason I must bid you good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “The first thing to do, then, is to settle that ugly business about the + mare. By no means must we let it come to trial.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my lord, be it so.” + </p> + <p> + Norton, after leaving his dupe to meditate upon the circumstances in which + he found himself, began to reflect as he went along, that he himself was + necessarily involved in the ruin of his friend and patron. + </p> + <p> + “I have the cards, however, in my own hands,” thought he, “and M'Bride's + advice was a good one. He having destroyed the other documents, it follows + that this registry, which I have safe and snug, will be just what his + lordship's enemies will leap at. Of course they are humbugging the old + peer about the other papers, and, as I know, it is devilish easy to humbug + the young one. My agency is gone to the winds; but I think the registry + will stand me instead. It ought, in a case like this, to be well worth + five thousand; at least, I shall ask this sum—not saying but I will + take less. Here goes then for an interview with Birney, who has the + character of being a shrewd fellow—honorable, they say—but + then, is he not an attorney? Yes, Birney, have at you, my boy;” and having + come to this virtuous conclusion, he directed his steps to that + gentleman's office, whom he found engaged at his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Birney, I presume,” with a very fashionable bow. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Birney, “that is my name.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! If I don't mistake, Mr. Birney,” with a very English accent, which + no one could adopt, when he pleased, with more success than our Kerry boy—“if + I don't mistake, we both made a journey to France very recently?” + </p> + <p> + “That may be, sir,” replied Birney, “but I am not aware of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am, though,” tipping Birney the London cockney. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said Birney, very coolly, “and what follows from that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why haw—haw—I don't exactly know at present; but I think a + good dee-al may follow from it.” + </p> + <p> + “As how, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you were over there on matters connected with Lord Cullamore's + family—haw?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied Birney, “you are a perfect stranger to me—I haven't + the honor of knowing you. If you are coming to me on anything connected + with my professional services, I will thank you to state it.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw!—My name is Norton, a friend of Lord Dunroe's.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Norton, if you will have the goodness to mention the business + which causes me the honor of your visit, I will thank you; but I beg to + assure you, that I am not a man to be pumped either by Lord Dunroe or any + of his friends. You compel me to speak very plainly, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! Very good—very good indeed! but the truth his, I've given + Dunroe hup.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, and how is that my affair? What interest can I feel in your + quarrels? Personally I know very little of Lord Dunroe, and of you, sir, + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! but everything 'as a beginning, Mr. Birney.” + </p> + <p> + “At this rate of going, I fear we shall be a long time ending, Mr. + Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Norton, “I believe you are right; the sooner we understand + each other, the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” replied Birney; “I think so, if you have any business of + importance with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I rayther think you will find it important—that is, to your + own interests. You are an attorney, Mr. Birney, and I think you will admit + that every man in this world, as it goes, ought to look to 'is own + interests.” + </p> + <p> + Birney looked at him, and said, very gravely, “Pray, sir, what is your + business with me? My time, sir, is valuable. My time is money—a + portion of my landed property, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! Very good; but you Hirish are so fiery and impatient! However, I + will come to the point. You are about to joust that young scamp, by the + way, out of the title and property. I say so, because I am up to the + thing. Yet you want dockiments to establish your case—haw?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, and suppose we do; you, I presume, as the friend of Lord + Dunroe, are not coming to furnish us with them?” + </p> + <p> + “That is, Mr. Birney, as we shall understand one another. You failed in + your mission to France?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall hear any proposal, sir, you have to make, but will answer no + questions on the subject until I understand your motive for putting them.” + </p> + <p> + “Good—very cool and cautious—but suppose, now, that I, who + know you 'ave failed in procuring the dockiments in question, could supply + you with them—haw!—do you understand me now?” + </p> + <p> + “Less than ever, sir, I assure you. Observe that you introduced yourself + to me as the friend of Lord Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “Merely to connect myself with the proceedings between you. I 'ave or am + about to discard him, but I shaunt go about the bush no longer. I'm a + native of Lon'on, w'at is tarmed a cockney—haw, haw!—and he + 'as treated me ill—very ill—and I am detarmined to retaliate.” + </p> + <p> + “How, sir, are you determined to retaliate?” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, sir, I've got the dockiments you stand in need of in my + possession, and can furnish you with them for a consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, now you are intelligible. What do you want, Murray? I'm engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “To speak one word with you in the next room, sir. The gentleman wants you + to say yes or no, in a single line, upon Mr. Fairfield's business, sir—besides, + I've a private message.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me for a moment, sir,” said Birney; “there's this morning's paper, + if you haven't seen it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Bob,” said he, “what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Beware of that fellow,” said he: “I know him well; his name is Bryan; he + was a horse jockey on the Curragh, and was obliged to fly the country for + dishonesty. Be on your guard, that is all I had to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he says he is a Londoner, and he certainly has the accent,” replied + the other. + </p> + <p> + “Kerry, sir, to the backbone, and a disgrace to the country, for divil a + many rogues it produces, whatever else it may do.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Murray,” said Birney; “I will be doubly guarded now.” + </p> + <p> + This occurred between Birney and one of his clerks, as a small interlude + in their conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” resumed Birney, once more taking his place at the desk, “you + can now be understood.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw!—yes, I rayther fancy I can make myself so!” replied Norton. + “What, now, do you suppose the papers in question may be worth to your + friends?” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot expect me to reply to that question,” said Birney; “I am + acting professionally under the advice and instructions of others; but I + will tell you what I think you had better do—I can enter into no + negotiation on the subject without consulting those who have employed me, + and getting their consent—write down, then, on a sheet of paper, + what you propose to do for us, and the compensation which you expect to + receive for any documents you may supply us with that we may consider of + value, and I shall submit it for consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “May I not compromise myself by putting it on paper, though?” + </p> + <p> + “If you think so, then, don't do it; but, for my part, I shall have no + further concern in the matter. Verbal communications are of little + consequence in an affair of this kind. Reduce it to writing, and it can be + understood; it will, besides, prevent misconceptions in future.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust you are a man of honor?” said Norton. + </p> + <p> + “I make no pretensions to anything so high,” replied Birney; “but I trust + I am an honest man, and know how to act when I have an honest man to deal + with. If you wish to serve our cause, or, to be plain with you, wish to + turn the documents you speak of to the best advantage, make your proposal + in writing, as you ought to do, otherwise I must decline any further + negotiation on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + Norton saw and felt that there was nothing else for it. He accordingly + took pen and ink and wrote down his proposal—offering to place the + documents alluded to, which were mentioned by name, in the hands of Mr. + Birney, for the sum of five thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” said Birney, after looking over this treacherous proposition, + “you see yourself the advantage of putting matters down in black and + white. The production of this will save me both time and trouble, and, + besides, it can be understood at a glance. Thank you, sir. Have the + goodness to favor me with a call in a day or two, and we shall see what + can be done.” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Norton, as he was about to go, “is a point of honor between + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I think, at all events, it ought,” replied Bimey; “at least, so far + as I am concerned, it is not my intention to act dishonorably by any + honest man.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw—haw! Very well said, indeed; I 'ave a good opinion of your + discretion. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I wish you good morneen; I shall call in a day or two, and + expect to 'ave a satisfactory answer.” + </p> + <p> + “What a scoundrel!” exclaimed Birney. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a fellow, now, who has been fleecing that unfortunate sheep of a + nobleman for the last four years, and now that he finds him at the length + of his tether, he is ready to betray and sacrifice him, like a + double-distilled rascal as he is. The villain thought I did not know him, + but he was mistaken—quite out in his calculations. He will find, + too, that he has brought his treachery to the wrong market.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTEE XXXIX. Fenton Recovered—The Mad-House + </h2> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay, on his return with the special license, was informed + by the same servant who had admitted the stranger, that a gentleman + awaited him in the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he, M'Gregor?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir; he paid you a visit once at Red Hall, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “How could I know him by that, you blockhead?” + </p> + <p> + “He's the gentleman, sir, you had hot words with.” + </p> + <p> + “That I kicked out one day? Crackenfudge, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No, faith, sir; not Crackenfudge. I know him well enough; and devil a + kick your honor gave him but I wished was nine. This is a very different + man, sir; and I believe you had warm words with him too, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed his master; “I remember. Is he above?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + A strange and disagreeable feeling came over the baronet on hearing these + words—a kind of presentiment, as it were, of something unpleasant + and adverse to his plans. On entering the drawing-room, however, he was a + good deal surprised to find that there was nobody there; and after a + moment's reflection, a fearful suspicion took possession of him; he rang + the bell furiously. + </p> + <p> + Gibson, who had been out, now entered. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Miss Gourlay, sir?” asked his master, with eyes kindled by rage + and alarm. + </p> + <p> + “I was out, sir,” replied Gibson, “and cannot tell.” + </p> + <p> + “You can never tell anything, you scoundrel. For a thousand, she's off + with him again, and all's ruined. Here, Matthews—M'Gregor—call + the servants, sir. Where's her maid?—call her maid. What a + confounded fool—ass—I was, not to have made that impudent + baggage tramp about her business. It's true, Lucy's off—I feel it—I + felt it. Hang her hypocrisy! It's the case, however, with all women. They + have neither truth, nor honesty of purpose. A compound of treachery, + deceit, and dissimulation; and yet I thought, if there was a single + individual of her sex exempted from their vices, that she was that + individual. Come here, M'Gregor—come here you scoundrel—do you + know where Miss Gourlay is? or her maid?” + </p> + <p> + “Here's Matthews, sir; he says she's gone out.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone out!—Yes, she's gone out with a vengeance. Do you know where + she's gone, sirra? And did any one go with her?” he added, addressing + himself to Matthews. + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir, she's gone to take her usual airing in the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was with her?” + </p> + <p> + “No one but her maid, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; they would not go off together—that would be too open and + barefaced. Do you know what direction she took?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I didn't observe.” + </p> + <p> + “You stupid old lout,” replied the baronet, flying at him, and mauling the + unfortunate man without mercy; “take that—and that—and that—for + your stupidity. Why did you not observe the way she went, you! villain? + You have suffered her to elope, you hound! You have all suffered her to + elope with a smooth-faced impostor—a fellow whom no one knows—a + blackleg—a swindler—a thief—a—a—go and + saddle half a dozen horses, and seek her in all directions. Go instantly, + and—hold—easy—stop—hang you all, stop!—here + she is—and her maid with her—” he exclaimed, looking out of + the window. “Ha! I am relieved. God bless me! God bless me!” He then + looked at the servants with something of deprecation in his face, and + waving his hand, said, “Go—go quietly; and, observe me—not a + word of this—not a syllable—for your lives!” + </p> + <p> + His anger, however, was only checked in mid-volley. The idea of her having + received a clandestine visit from her lover during his absence rankled at + his heart; and although satisfied that she was still safe, and in his + power, he could barely restrain his temper within moderate limits. Nay, he + felt angry at her for the alarm she had occasioned him, and the passion he + had felt at her absence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lucy,” said he, addressing her, as she entered, in a voice chafed + with passion, “have you taken your drive?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa,” she replied; “but it threatened rain, and we returned earlier + that usual.” + </p> + <p> + “You look pale.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say I do, sir. I want rest—repose;” and she reclined on a + lounger as she spoke. “It is surprising, papa, how weak I am!” + </p> + <p> + “Not too weak, Lucy, to receive a stolen visit, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy immediately sat up, and replied with surprise, “A stolen visit, sir? + I don't understand you, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Had you not a visitor here, in my absence?” + </p> + <p> + “I had, sir, but the visit was intended for you. Our interview was + perfectly accidental.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! faith, Lucy, it was too well timed to be accidental. I'm not such a + fool as that comes to. Accidental, indeed! Lucy, you should not say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in the habit of stating an untruth, papa. The visit, sir—I + should rather say, the interview—was purely accidental; but I am + glad it took place.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce you are! That is a singular acknowledgment, Lucy, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “It is truth, sir, notwithstanding. I was anxious to see him, that I might + acquaint him with the change that has taken place in my unhappy destiny. + If I had not seen him, I should have asked your permission to write to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Which I would not have given.” + </p> + <p> + “I would have submitted my letter to you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Even so; I would not have consented.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, sir, as truth and honor demanded that act from me, I would + haye sent it without your consent. Excuse me for saying this, papa; but + you need not be told that there are some peculiar cases where duty to a + parent must yield to truth and honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Some peculiar cases! On the contrary, the cases you speak of are the + general rule, my girl—the general rule—and rational obedience + to a parent the exception. Where is there a case—and there are + millions—where a parent's wish and will are set at naught and + scorned, in which the same argument is not used? I do not relish these + discussions, however. What I wish to impress upon you is this—you + must see this fellow no more.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's temples were immediately in a blaze. “Are you aware, papa, that you + insult and degrade your daughter, by applying such a term to him? If you + will not spare him, sir, spare me; for I assure you that I feel anything + said against him with ten times more emotion than if it were uttered + against myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well; he's a fine fellow, a gentleman, a lord; but, be he what he + may, you must see him no more.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my intention, papa, to see him again.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not write to him.” + </p> + <p> + “It will not be necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I shall not.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor receive kis letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor receive his letters, knowing them to be his.” + </p> + <p> + “You promise all this?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir, faithfully. I hope you are now satisfied, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, Lucy—I am. You are not so bad a girl as I sus—no, you + are a very good girl; and when I see you the Countess of Cullamore, I + shall not have a single wish un-gratified.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, indeed, poor girl, was well and vigilantly guarded. No + communication, whether written or otherwise, was permitted to reach her; + nor, if she had been lodged in the deepest dungeon in Europe, and secured + by the strongest bolts that ever enclosed a prisoner, could she have been + more rigidly excluded from all intercourse, her father's and her maid's + only excepted. + </p> + <p> + Her lover, on receiving the documents so often alluded to from old Corbet, + immediately transmitted to her a letter of hope and encouragement, in + which he stated that the object he had alluded to was achieved, and that + he would take care to place such documents before her father, as must + cause even him to forbid the bans. This letter, however, never reached + her. Neither did a similar communication from Mrs. Mainwaring, who after + three successive attempts to see either her or her father, was forced at + last to give up all hope of preventing the marriage. She seemed, indeed, + to have been fated. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, the stranger, having, as he imagined, relieved Lucy's + mind from her dreaded union with Dunroe, and left the further and more + complete disclosure of that young nobleman's position to Mrs. Mainwaring, + provided himself with competent legal authority to claim the person of + unfortunate Fenton. It is unnecessary to describe his journey to the + asylum in which the wretched young man was placed; it is enough to say + that he arrived there at nine o'clock in the morning, accompanied by old + Corbet and three officers of justice, who remained in the carriage; and on + asking to see the proprietor, was shown into a parlor, where he found that + worthy gentleman reading a newspaper. + </p> + <p> + This fellow was one of those men who are remarkable for thick, massive, + and saturnine features. At a first glance he was not at all ill-looking; + but, on examining his beetle brows, which met in a mass of black thick + hair across his face, and on watching the dull, selfish, cruel eyes that + they hung over—dead as they were to every generous emotion, and + incapable of kindling even at cruelty itself—it was impossible for + any man in the habit of observing nature closely not to feel that a brutal + ruffian, obstinate, indurated, and unscrupulous, was before him. His + forehead was low but broad, and the whole shape of his head such as would + induce an intelligent phrenologist to pronounce him at once a thief and a + murderer. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, after a survey or two, felt his blood boil at the + contemplation of his very visage, which was at once plausible and + diabolical in expression. After some preliminary chat the latter said: + </p> + <p> + “Your establishment, sir, is admirably situated here. It is remote and + isolated; and these, I suppose, are advantages?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, sir,” replied the doctor, “the further we remove our patients + from human society, the better. The exhibition of reason has, in general, + a bad effect upon the insane.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon what principle do you account for that?” asked the stranger. “To me + it would appear that the reverse of the proposition ought to hold true.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” replied the other; “but no man can form a correct opinion + of insane persons who has not mingled with them, or had them under his + care. The contiguity of reason—I mean in the persons of those who + approach them—always exercises a dangerous influence upon lunatics; + and on this account, I sometimes place those who are less insane as + keepers upon such as are decidedly so.” + </p> + <p> + “Does not that, sir, seem very like setting the blind to lead the blind?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the other, with a heavy, I heartless laugh, “your analogy + fails; it is rather like setting a man with one eye to guide another who + has none.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should not a man who has two guide him better?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the consciousness that there is but the one eye between both of + them, will make him proceed more cautiously.” + </p> + <p> + “But that in the blind is an act of reason,” replied the stranger, “which + cannot be applied to the insane, in whom reason is deficient.” + </p> + <p> + “But where reason does not exist,” said the doctor, “we must regulate them + by the passions.” + </p> + <p> + “By the exercise of which passion do you gain the greatest ascendency over + them?” asked the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “By fear, of course. We can do nothing, at least very little, without + inspiring terror.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” thought the stranger, “I have now got the key to his conduct!—But, + sir,” he added, “we never fear and love the same object at the same time.” + </p> + <p> + “True enough, sir,” replied the ruffian; “but who could or ought to + calculate upon the attachment of a madman? Boys are corrected more + frequently than men, because their reason is not developed: and those in + whom it does not exist, or in whom it has been impaired, must be subjected + to the same discipline. Terror, besides, is the principle upon which + reason itself, and all society, are governed.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose I had a brother, now, or a relative, might I not hesitate to + place him in an establishment conducted on principles which I condemn?” + </p> + <p> + “As to that, sir,” replied the fellow, who, expecting a patient, feared + that he had gone too far, “our system is an adaptable one; at least, our + application of it varies according to circumstances. As our first object + is cure, we must necessarily allow ourselves considerable latitude of + experiment until we hit upon the right key. This being found, the process + of recovery, when it is possible, may be conducted with as much mildness + as the absence of reason will admit. We are mild, when we can, and severe + only where we must.” + </p> + <p> + “Shuffling scoundrel!” thought the stranger. “I perceive in this language + the double dealing of an unprincipled villain.—Would you have any + objection, sir,” he said, “that I should look through your establishment?” + </p> + <p> + “I can conduct you through the convalescent wards,” replied the doctor; + “but, as I said, we find that the appearance of strangers—which is + what I meant by the contiguity of reason—is attended with very bad, + and sometimes deplorable consequences. Under all circumstances it retards + a cure, under others occasions a relapse, and in some accelerates the + malady so rapidly that it becomes hopeless. You may see the convalescent + ward, however—that is, if you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “You will oblige me,” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said he, “if you will remain here a moment, I will send a + gentleman who will accompany you, and explain the characters of some of + the patients, should you desire it, and also the cause of their respective + maladies.” + </p> + <p> + He then disappeared, and in a few minutes a mild, intelligent, gentlemanly + man, of modest and unassuming manners, presented himself, and said he + would feel much pleasure in showing him the convalescent side of the + house. The stranger, however, went out and brought old Corbet in from the + carriage, where he and the officers had been sitting; and this he did at + Corbet's own request. + </p> + <p> + It is not our intention to place before our readers any lengthened + description of this gloomy temple of departed reason. Every one who enters + a lunatic asylum for the first time, must feel a wild and indescribable + emotion, such as he has never before experienced, and which amounts to an + extraordinary sense of solemnity and fear. Nor do the sensations of the + stranger rest here. He feels as if he were surrounded by something sacred + as well as melancholy, something that creates at once pity, reverence, and + awe. Indeed, so strongly antithetical to each other are his first + impressions, that a kind of confusion arises in his mind, and he begins to + fear that his senses have been affected by the atmosphere of the place. + That a shock takes place which slightly disarranges the faculty of + thought, and generates strong but erroneous impressions, is still more + clearly established by the fact that the visitor, for a considerable time + after leaving an asylum, can scarcely rid himself of the belief that every + person he meets is insane. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, on entering the long room in which the convalescents were + assembled, felt, in the silence of the patients, and in their vague and + fantastic movements, that he was in a position where novelty, in general + the source of pleasure, was here associated only with pain. Their + startling looks, the absence of interest in some instances, and its + intensity in others, at the appearance of strangers, without any + intelligent motive in either case, produced a feeling that seemed to bear + the character of a disagreeable dream. + </p> + <p> + “All the patients here,” said his conductor, “are not absolutely in a + state of convalescence. A great number of them are; but we also allow such + confirmed lunatics as are harmless to mingle with them. There is scarcely + a profession, or a passion, or a vanity in life, which has not here its + representative. Law, religion, physic, the arts, the sciences, all + contribute their share to this melancholy picture gallery. Avarice, love, + ambition, pride, jealousy, having overgrown the force of reason, are here, + as its ideal skeletons, wild and gigantic—fretting, gambolling, + moping, grinning, raving, and vaporing—each wrapped in its own + Vision, and indifferent to all the influence of the collateral faculties. + There, now, is a man, moping about, the very picture of stolidity; observe + how his heavy head hangs down until his chin rests upon his breastbone, + his mouth open and almost dribbling. That man, sir, so unpoetical and + idiotic in appearance, imagines himself the author of Beattie's 'Minstrel' + He is a Scotchman, and I shall call him over.” + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Sandy, speak to this gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Sandy, without raising his lack-lustre eye, came over and replied, “Aw—ay—'Am + the author o' Betty's Menstrel;” and having uttered this piece of + intelligence, he shuffled across the room, dragging one foot after the + other, at about a quarter of a minute per step. Never was poor Beattie so + libellously represented. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that round-faced, good-humored looking man, with a decent + frieze coat on?” said their conductor. “He's a wealthy and respectable + farmer from the county of Kilkenny, who imagines that he is Christ. His + name is Rody Rafferty.” + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Rody.” + </p> + <p> + Rody came over, and looking at the stranger, said, “Arra, now, do you know + who I am? Troth, I go bail you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the stranger, “I do not; but I hope you will tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Christ,” replied Rody; “and, upon my word, if you don't get out o' + this, I'll work a miracle on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” asked the stranger, “what will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, I'll turn you into a blackin' brush, and polish my shoes wid you. + You were at Barney's death, too.” + </p> + <p> + The poor man had gone deranged, it seemed, by the violent death of his + only child—a son. + </p> + <p> + “There's another man,” said the conductor; “that little fellow with the + angry face. He is a shoemaker, who went mad on the score of humanity. He + took a strong feeling of resentment against all who had flat feet, and + refused to make shoes for them.” + </p> + <p> + “How was that?” inquired the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” said the other, smiling, “he said that they murdered the + clocks (beetles), and he looked upon every man with flat feet as an + inhuman villain, who deserves, he says, to have his feet chopped off, and + to be compelled to dance a hornpipe three times a day on his stumps.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that broad-shouldered man,” asked the stranger, “dressed in rusty + black, with the red head?” + </p> + <p> + “He went mad,” replied the conductor, “on a principle of religious + charity. He is a priest from the county of Wexford, who had been called in + to baptize the child of a Protestant mother, which, having done, he seized + a tub, and placing it on the child's neck, killed it; exclaiming, 'I am + now sure of having sent one soul to heaven.'” + </p> + <p> + “You are not without poets here, of course?” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “We have, unfortunately,” replied the other, “more individuals of that + class than we can well manage. They ought to have an asylum for + themselves. There's a fellow, now, he in the tattered jacket and nightcap, + who has written a heroic poem, of eighty-six thousand verses, which he + entitles 'Balaam's Ass, or the Great Unsaddled.' Shall I call him over?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for heaven's sake, no,” replied the stranger; “keep me from the + poets.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one of the other species,” replied the gentleman, “the thin, + red-eyed fellow, who grinds his teeth. He fancies himself a wit and a + satirist, and is the author of an unpublished poem, called 'The Smoking + Dunghill, or Parnassus in a Fume.' He published several things, which were + justly attacked on account of their dulness, and he is now in an awful + fury against all the poets of the day, to every one of whom he has given + an appropriate position on the sublime pedestal, which he has, as it were, + with his own hands, erected for them. He certainly ought to be the best + constructor of a dunghill in the world, for he deals in nothing but dirt. + He refuses to wash his hands, because, he says, it would disqualify him + from giving the last touch to his poem and his characters.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you philosophers as well as poets here?” asked the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, yes, sir. We have poetical philosophers, and philosophical + poets; but, I protest to heaven, the wisdom of Solomon, or of an + archangel, could not decide the difference between their folly. There's a + man now, with the old stocking in his hand—it is one of his own, for + you may observe that he has one leg bare—who is pacing up and down + in a deep thinking mood. That man, sir, was set mad by a definition of his + own making.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let us hear it,” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, he imagines that he has discovered a definition for 'nothing.' + The definition, however, will make you smile.” + </p> + <p> + “And what, pray, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” he says, “is—a footless stocking without a leg; and + maintains that he ought to hold the first rank as a philosopher for having + invented the definition, and deserves a pension from the crown.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are these two men dressed in black, walking arm in arm?” asked the + stranger. “They appear to be clergymen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied his conductor, “so they are; two celebrated polemical + controversialists, who, when they were at large, created by their attacks, + each upon the religion of the other, more ill-will, rancor and religious + animosity, than either of their religions, with all their virtues, could + remove. It is impossible to describe the evil they did. Ever since they + came here, however, they are like brothers. They were placed in the same + room, each in a strong strait-waistcoat, for the space of three months; + but on being allowed to walk about, they became sworn friends, and now + amuse themselves more than any other two in the establishment. They + indulge in immoderate fits of laughter, look each other knowingly in the + face, wink, and run the forefinger up the nose, after which their mirth + bursts out afresh, and they laugh until the tears come down their cheeks.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger, who during all this time was on the lookout for poor Fenton, + as was old Corbet, could observe nobody who resembled him in the least. + </p> + <p> + “Have you females in your establishment?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” replied the gentleman; “but we are about to open an asylum for + them in a detached building, which is in the course of being erected. + Would you wish to hear any further details of these unhappy beings,” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” replied the stranger. “You are very kind and obliging, but I + have heard enough for the present. Have you a person named Fenton in your + establishment?” + </p> + <p> + “Not, sir, that I know of; he may be here, though; but you had better + inquire from the proprietor himself, who—mark me, sir—I say—harkee—you + have humanity in your face—will probably refuse to tell you whether + he is here or not, or deny him altogether. Harkee, again, sir—the + fellow is a villain—that is, <i>entre nous</i>, but mum's the word + between us.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” replied the stranger, “to hear such a character of him from + you, who should know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” replied the other, “let that pass—<i>verbum sap</i>. + And now tell me, when have you been at the theater?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for some months,” returned the other. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever heard Catalani shake?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the stranger. “I have had that pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I'm delighted that you have heard her, for there is but one + man living who can rival her in the shake; and, sir, you have the honor of + addressing that man.” + </p> + <p> + This was said so mildly, calmly, rationally, and with that gentlemanlike + air of undoubted respectability, which gives to an assertion such an + impress of truth, that the stranger, confused as he was by what he had + seen, felt it rather difficult to draw the line at the moment, especially + in such society, between a sane man and an insane one. + </p> + <p> + “Would you wish, sir,” said the guide, “to hear a specimen of my powers?” + </p> + <p> + “If you please,” replied the stranger, “provided you will confine yourself + to the shake.” + </p> + <p> + The other then commenced a squall, so tuneless, wild, jarring, and + unmusical, that the stranger could not avoid smiling at the monomaniac, + for such he at once perceived him to be. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to like that,” observed the other, apparently much gratified; + “but I thought as much, sir—you are a man of taste.” + </p> + <p> + “I am decidedly of opinion,” said the stranger, “that Catalani, in her + best days, could not give such a specimen of the shake as that.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you sir,” replied the singer, taking off his hat and bowing. “We + shall have another shake in honor of your excellent judgment, but it will + be a shake of the hand. Sir, you are a polished and most accomplished + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + As they sauntered up and down the room, other symptoms reached them + besides those that were then subjected to their sight. As a door opened, a + peal of wild laughter might be heard—sometimes groaning—and + occasionally the most awful blasphemies. Ambition contributed a large + number to its dreary cells. In fact, one would imagine that the house had + been converted into a temple of justice, and contained within its walls + most of the crowned heads and generals of Europe, both living and dead, + together with a fair sample of the saints. The Emperor of Russia was + strapped down to a chair that had been screwed into the floor, with the + additional security of a strait-waistcoat to keep his majesty quiet. The + Pope challenged Henry the Eighth to box, and St. Peter, as the cell door + opened, asked Anthony Corbet for a glass of whiskey. Napoleon Bonaparte, + in the person of a heroic tailor, was singing “Bob and Joan;” and the + Archbishop of Dublin said he would pledge his mitre for a good cigar and a + pot of porter. Sometimes a frightful yell would-reach their ears; then a + furious set of howlings, followed again by peals of maniac laughter, as + before. Altogether, the stranger was glad to withdraw, which he did, in + order to prosecute his searches for Fenton. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said the doctor, whom he found again in the parlor, “you have + seen that melancholy sight?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, sir, and a melancholy one indeed it is; but as I came on a matter + of business, doctor, I think we had better come to the point at once. You + have a young man named Fenton in your establishment?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, we have no person of that name here.” + </p> + <p> + “A wrong name may have been purposely given you, sir; but the person I + speak of is here. And you had better understand me at once,” he continued. + “I am furnished with such authority as will force you to produce him.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is not here, sir, no authority on earth can force me to produce + him.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see that presently. Corbet, bring in the officers. Here, sir, is + a warrant, by which I am empowered to search for his body; and, when + found, to secure him, in order that he may be restored to his just rights, + from which he has been debarred by a course of villany worthy of being + concocted in hell itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Family reasons, sir, frequently render it necessary that patients should + enter this establishment under fictitious names. But these are matters + with which I have nothing to do. My object is to comply with the wishes of + their relatives.” + </p> + <p> + “Your object, sir, should be to cure, rather than to keep them; to conduct + your establishment as a house of recovery, not as a prison—of + course, I mean where the patient is curable. I demand, sir, that you will + find this young man, and produce him to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But provided I cannot do so,” replied the doctor, doggedly, “what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, in that case, we are in possession of a warrant for your own arrest, + under the proclamation which was originally published in the 'Hue and + Cry,' for his detention. Sir, you are now aware of the alternative. You + produce the person we require, or you accompany us yourself. It has been + sworn that he is in your keeping.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot do what is impossible. I will, however, conduct you through all + the private rooms of the establishment, and if you can find or identify + the person you want, I am satisfied. It is quite possible he may be with + me; but I don't know, nor have I ever known him by the name of Fenton. + It's a name I've never heard in my establishment. Come, sir, I am ready to + show you every room in my house.” + </p> + <p> + By this time the officers, accompanied by Corbet, entered, and all + followed the doctor in a body to aid in the search. The search, however, + was fruitless. Every room, cell, and cranny that was visible in the + establishment underwent a strict examination, as did their unhappy + occupants. All, however, in vain; and the doctor now was about to assume a + tone of insolence and triumph, when Corbet said: + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, all seems plain here. You have done your duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, “I always do so. No man in the kingdom has given + greater satisfaction, nor stands higher in that painful department of our + profession to which I have devoted myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, doctor,” repeated Corbet, with one of his bitterest grins; “you have + done your duty; and for that reason I ask you to folly me.” + </p> + <p> + “Where to, my good fellow?” asked the other, somewhat crestfallen. “What + do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I spake plainly enough. I say, folly me. I think, too, I know + something about the outs and ins, the ups and downs of this house still. + Come, sir, we'll show you how you've done your duty; but listen to me, + before we go one foot further—if he's dead before my time has come, + I'll have your life, if I was to swing on a thousand gallowses.” + </p> + <p> + One of the officers here tapped the doctor authoritatively on the + shoulder, and said, “Proceed, sir, we are losing time.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor saw at once that further resistance was useless. + </p> + <p> + “By the by,” said he, “there is one patient in the house that I completely + forgot. He is so desperate and outrageous, however, that we were + compelled, within the last week or so, to try the severest discipline with + him. He, however, cannot be the person you want, for his name is Moore; at + least, that is the name under which he was sent here.” + </p> + <p> + Down in a narrow, dark dungeon, where the damp and stench were + intolerable, and nothing could be seen until a light was procured, they + found something lying on filthy straw that had human shape. The hair and + beard were long and overgrown; the features, begrimed with filth, were + such as the sharpest eye could not recognize; and the whole body was so + worn and emaciated, so ragged and tattered in appearance, that it was + evident at a glance that foul practices must have been resorted to in + order to tamper with life.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” said the doctor, addressing the stranger, “I will leave you + and your friends to examine the patient, as perhaps you might feel my + presence a restraint upon you.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger, after a glance or two at Fenton, turned around, and said, + sternly, “Peace-officer, arrest that man, and remove him to the parlor as + your prisoner. But hold,” he added, “let us first ascertain whether this + is Mr. Fenton or not.” + </p> + <p> + “I will soon tell you, sir,” said Corbet, approaching the object before + them, and feeling the left side of his neck. + </p> + <p> + “It is him, sir,” he said; “here he is, sure enough, at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” repeated the stranger, “arrest that man, as I said, and let + two of you accompany him to the parlor, and detain him there until we join + you.” + </p> + <p> + On raising the wretched young man, they found that life was barely in him; + he had been asleep, and being roused up, he screamed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said he, “I am not able to bear it—don't scourge me, I am + dying; I am doing all I can to die. Why did you disturb me? I dreamt that + I was on my mother's knee, and that she was kissing me. What is this? What + brings so many of you now? I wish I had told the strange gentleman in the + inn everything; but I feared he was my enemy, and perhaps he was. I am + very hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Merciful God!” exclaimed the stranger; “are such things done in a free + and Christian country? Bring him up to the parlor,” he added, “and let him + be shaved and cleansed; but be careful of him, for his lamp of life is + nearly exhausted. I thank you, Corbet, for the suggestion of the linen and + clothes. What could we have done without them? It would have been + impossible to fetch him in this trim.” + </p> + <p> + We must pass over these disagreeable details. It is enough to say that + poor Fenton was put into clean linen and decent clothes, and that in a + couple of hours they were once more on their way with him, to the + metropolis, the doctor accompanying them, as their prisoner. + </p> + <p> + The conduct of Corbet was on this occasion very singular. He complained + that the stench of the dungeon in which they found Fenton had sickened + him; but, notwithstanding this, something like ease of mind might be read + in his countenance whenever he looked upon Fenton; something that, to the + stranger at least, who observed him closely, seemed to say, “I am at last + satisfied: the widow's heart will be set at rest, and the plans of this + black villain broken to pieces.” His eye occasionally gleamed wildly, and + again his countenance grew pale and haggard, and he complained of headache + and pains about his loins, and in the small of his back. + </p> + <p> + On arriving in Dublin, the stranger brought Fenton to his hotel, where he + was desirous to keep him for a day or two, until he should regain a little + strength, that he might, without risk, be able to sustain the interview + that was before him. Aware of the capricious nature of the young man's + feelings, and his feeble state of health, he himself kept aloof from him, + lest his presence might occasion such a shock as would induce anything + like a fit of insanity—a circumstance which must mar the pleasure + and gratification of his unexpected reappearance. That medical advice + ought instantly to be procured was evident from his extreme weakness, and + the state of apathy into which he had sunk immediately after, his removal + from the cell. This was at once provided; but unfortunately it seemed that + all human skill was likely to prove unavailable, as the physician, on + seeing and examining him, expressed himself with strong doubts as to the + possibility of his recovery. In fact, he feared that his unhappy patient + had not many days to live. He ordered him wine, tonics, and light but + nutritious food to be taken sparingly, and desired that he should be + brought into the open air as often as the debility of his constitution + could bear it. His complaint, he said, was altogether a nervous one, and + resulted from the effects of cruelty, terror, want of sufficient + nourishment, bad air, and close confinement. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, the doctor was committed to prison, and had the pleasure + of being sent, under a safe escort, to the jail of the county that had + been so largely benefited by his humane establishment. + </p> + <p> + As we are upon this painful subject, we may as well state here that he was + prosecuted, convicted, and sentenced to two years' imprisonment, with hard + labor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. Lady Gourlay sees her Son. + </h2> + <p> + Having done all that was possible for poor Fenton, the stranger lost no + time in waiting upon Lady Gourlay, that he might, with as much prudence as + the uncertain state of the young man's health would permit, make known the + long wished for communication, that they had at length got him in their + possession. His task was one of great difficulty, for he apprehended that + an excess of joy on the part of that affectionate woman might be + dangerous, when suddenly checked by the melancholy probability that he had + been restored to her only to be almost immediately removed by death. He + resolved, then, to temper his intelligence in such a way as to cause her + own admirable sense and high Christian feeling to exercise their usual + influence over her heart. As he had promised Corbet, however, to take no + future step in connection with these matters without consulting him, he + resolved, before seeing Lady Gourlay, to pay him a visit. He was induced + the more to do this in consequence of the old man's singular conduct on + the discovery of Fenton. From the very first interview that he ever had + with Corbet until that event, he could not avoid observing that there was + a mystery in everything he did and said—something enigmatical—unfathomable, + and that his looks, and the disagreeable expression which they + occasionally assumed, were frequently so much at variance with his words, + that it was an utter impossibility to draw anything like a certain + inference from them. On the discovery of Fenton, the old man's face went + through a variety of contradictory expressions. Sometimes he seemed elated—triumphant, + sometimes depressed and anxious, and occasionally angry, or excited by a + feeling that was altogether unintelligible. He often turned his eye upon + Fenton, as if he had discovered some precious treasure, then his + countenance became overcast, and he writhed in an agony which no mortal + penetration could determine as anything but the result of remorse. Taking + all this into consideration, the stranger made up his mind to see him + before he should wait upon Lady Gourlay. + </p> + <p> + Although a day had elapsed, he found the old man still complaining of + illness, which, he said, would have been more serious had he not taken + medicine. + </p> + <p> + “My mind, however,” said he, “is what's troublin' me. There's a battle + goin' on within me. At one time I'm delighted, but the delight doesn't + give me pleasure long, for then, again, I feel a weight over me that's + worse than death. However, I can't nor won't give it up. I hope I'll have + time to repent yet; who knows but it is God that has put it into my heart + and kept it there for so many years?” + </p> + <p> + “Kept what there?” asked the stranger. + </p> + <p> + The old man's face literally blackened as he replied, almost with a + scream, “Vengeance!” + </p> + <p> + “This language,” replied the other, “is absolutely shocking. Consider your + advanced state of life—consider your present illness, which may + probably be your last, and reflect that if you yourself expect pardon from + God, you must forgive your enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “So I will,” he replied; “but not till I've punished them; then I'll tell + them how I made my puppets of them, and when I give their heart one last + crush—one grind—and the old wretch ground his teeth in the + contemplation of this diabolical vision—ay,” he repeated—“one + last grind, then I'll tell them I've done with them, and forgive them; + then—then—ay, but not till then!” + </p> + <p> + “God forgive you, Corbet, and change your heart!” replied the stranger. “I + called to say that I am about to inform Lady Gourlay that we have her son + safe at last, and I wish to know if you are in possession of any facts + that she ought to be acquainted with in connection with his removal—in + fact, to hear anything you may wish to disclose to me on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “I could, then, disclose to you something on the subject that would make + you wondher; but although the time's at hand, it's not come yet. Here I + am, an ould man—helpless—or, at all events, helpless-lookin'—and + you would hardly believe that I'm makin' this black villain do everything + accordin' as I wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “That dark spirit of vengeance,” replied the stranger, “is turning your + brain, I think, or you would not say so. Whatever Sir Thomas Gourlay may + be, he is not the man to act as the puppet of any person.” + </p> + <p> + “So you think; but I tell you he's acting as mine, for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Corbet, that is your own affair. Have you anything of + importance to communicate to me, before I see Lady Gourlay? I ask you for + the last time.” + </p> + <p> + “I have. The black villain and she have spoken at last. He yielded to his + daughter so far as to call upon her, and asked her to be present at the + weddin'.” + </p> + <p> + “The wedding!” exclaimed the stranger, looking aghast. “God of heaven, old + man, do you mean to say that they are about to be married so soon?—about + to be married at all? But I will leave you,” he added; “there is no + possibility of wringing anything out of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little,” continued Corbet. “What I'm goin' to tell you won't do + you any harm, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quick, then. Gracious heaven!—married!—Curses seize you, + old man, be quick.” + </p> + <p> + “On the mornin' afther to-morrow the marriage is to take place in Sir + Thomas's own house. Lord Dunroe's sisther is to be bridesmaid, and a young + fellow named Roberts—” + </p> + <p> + “I know—I have met him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and did you ever see any one that he resembled, or that resembled + him? I hope in the Almighty,” he added, uttering the ejaculation evidently + in connection with some private thought or purpose of his own, “I hope in + the Almighty that this sickness will keep off o' me for a couple o' days + at any rate. Did you ever see any one that resembled him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the stranger, starting, for the thought had flashed upon + him; “he is the living image of Miss Gourlay! Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise, merely for a raison I have; but if you have patience, you'll + find that the longer you live, the more you'll know; only at this time + you'll know no more from me, barrin' that this same young officer is to be + his lordship's groom's-man. Dr. Sombre, the clergyman of the parish, is to + marry them in the baronet's house. A Mrs. Mainwaring, too, is to be there; + Miss Gourlay begged that she would be allowed to come, and he says she + may. You see now how well I know everything that happens there, don't + you?” he asked, with a grin of triumph. “But I tell you there will be more + at the same weddin' than he thinks. So now—ah, this pain!—there's + another string of it—I feel it go through me like an arrow—so + now you may go and see Lady Gourlay, and break the glad tidin's to her.” + </p> + <p> + With feelings akin to awe and of repugnance, but not at all of contempt—for + old Corbet was a man whom no one could despise—the stranger took his + departure, and proceeded to Lady Gourlay's, with a vague impression that + the remarkable likeness between Lucy and young Roberts was not merely + accidental. + </p> + <p> + He found her at home, placid as usual, but with evidences of a resignation + that was at once melancholy and distressing to witness. The struggle of + this admirable woman's heart, though sustained by high Christian feeling, + was, nevertheless, wearing her away by slow and painful degrees. The + stranger saw this, and scarcely knew in what terms to shape the + communication he had to make, full as it was of ecstasy to the mother's + loving spirit, yet dashed with such doubt and sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Can you bear good tidings, Lady Gourlay,” said he, “though mingled with + some cause of apprehension?” + </p> + <p> + “I am in the hands of God,” she replied, “and feel that I ought to receive + every communication with obedience. Speak on.” + </p> + <p> + “Your son is found!” + </p> + <p> + “What, my child restored to me?” + </p> + <p> + She had been sitting in an arm-chair, but on hearing these words she + started up, and said again, as she placed her hands upon the table at + which he sat, that she might sustain herself, “What, Charles, my darling + restored to me! Is he safe? Can I see him? Restored! restored at last!” + </p> + <p> + “Moderate your joy, my dear madam; he is safe—he is in my hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “But why not here? Safe! oh, at last—at last! But God is a God of + mercy, especially to the patient and long-suffering. But come—oh, + come! Think of me,—pity me, and do not defraud me one moment of his + sight. Bring me to him!” + </p> + <p> + “Hear me a moment, Lady Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she replied, in a passion of joyful tears, “I can hear you + again. I must see my son—my son—my darling child—where + is my son? Here—but no, I will ring myself. Why not have brought him + here at once, sir? Am not I his mother?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear madam,” said the stranger, calmly, but with a seriousness of + manner that checked the exuberance of her delight, and placing his hand + upon her shoulder, “hear me a moment. Your son is found; but he is ill, + and I fear in some danger.” + </p> + <p> + “But to see him, then,” she replied, looking with entreaty in his face, + “only to see him. After this long and dreary absence, to let my eyes rest + on my son. He is ill, you say; and what hand should be near him and about + him but his mother's? Who can with such love and tenderness cherish, and + soothe, and comfort him, as the mother who would die for him? Oh, I have a + thousand thoughts rushing to my heart—a thousand affectionate + anxieties to gratify; but first to look upon him—to press him to + that heart—to pour a mother's raptures over her long-lost child! + Come with me—oh, come. If he is ill, ought I not, as I said, to see + him the sooner on that account? Come, dear Charles, let the carriage be + ordered; but that will take some time. A hackney-coach will do—a car—anything + that will bring us there with least delay.” + </p> + <p> + “But, an interview, my lady, may be at this moment as much as his life is + worth; he is not out of danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I will not ask an interview. Only let me see him—let + his mother's eyes rest upon him. Let me steal a look—a look; let me + steal but one look, and I am sure, dear Charles, you will not gainsay this + little theft of the mother's heart. But, ah,” she suddenly exclaimed, + “what am I doing? Ungrateful and selfish that I am, to forget my first + duty! Pardon me a few moments; I will return soon.” + </p> + <p> + She passed into the back drawing-room, where, although the doors were + folded, he could hear this truly pious woman pouring forth with tears her + gratitude to God. In a few minutes she reappeared; and such were the + arguments she used, that he felt it impossible to prevent her from + gratifying this natural and absorbing impulse of the heart. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the hotel, they found, after inquiring, that he was asleep, a + circumstance which greatly pleased the stranger, as he doubted very much + whether Fenton would have been strong enough, either in mind or body, to + bear such an interview as must have taken place between them. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy young man was, as we have said, sound asleep. His face was + pale and wan, but a febrile hue had tinged his countenance with a color + which, although it concealed his danger, was not sufficient to remove from + it the mournful expression of all he had suffered. Yet the stranger + thought that he never had seen him look so well. His face was indeed a + fair but melancholy page of human life. The brows were slightly knit, as + if indicative of suffering; and there passed over his features, as he lay, + such varying expressions as we may presume corresponded with some painful + dream, by which, as far as one could judge, he seemed to be influenced. + Sometimes he looked like one that endured pain, sometimes as if he felt + terror; and occasionally a gleam of pleasure or joy would faintly light up + his handsome but wasted countenance. + </p> + <p> + Lady Gourlay, whilst she looked upon him, was obliged to be supported by + the stranger, who had much difficulty in restraining her grief within due + bounds. As for the tears, they fell from her eyes in showers. + </p> + <p> + “I must really remove you, my lady,” he said, in a whisper; “his recovery, + his very life, may depend upon the soundness of this sleep. You see + yourself, now, the state he is in; and who living has such an interest in + his restoration to health as you have?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” she whispered in reply. “I will be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page584.jpg" + alt="Page 584-- a Faint Smile Seemed to Light up his Face " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + As they spoke, a faint smile seemed to light up his face, which, however, + was soon changed to an expression of terror. + </p> + <p> + “Don't scourge me,” said he, “don't and I will tell you. It was my mother. + I thought she kissed me, as she used to do long ago, when I was a boy, and + never thought I'd be here.” He then uttered a few faint sobs, but relapsed + into a calm expression almost immediately. + </p> + <p> + The violent beatings of Lady Gourlay's heart were distinctly felt by the + stranger, as he supported her; and in order to prevent the sobs which he + knew, by the heavings of her breast, were about to burst forth, from + awakening the sleeper, he felt it best to lead her out of the room; which + he had no sooner done, than she gave way to a long fit of uncontrollable + weeping. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my child!—my child!” she exclaimed, “I fear they have murdered + him! Alas! is he only to be restored to me for a moment, and am I then to + be childless indeed? But I will strive to become calm. Why should I not? + For even this is a blessing—to have seen him, and to have the + melancholy consolation of knowing that if he is to die, he will die in my + own arms.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I trust, madam, he won't die. The workings of Providence are + never ineffectual, or without a purpose. Have courage, have patience, and + all will, I trust, end happily.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I have a request to make. Allow me to kiss him; I shall not + disturb him; and if he should recover, as I trust in the Almighty's mercy + he will—oh, how I should like to tell him that the dream about his + mother was not altogether a dream—that I did kiss him. Trust me, I + will not awaken him—the fall of the thistledown will will not be + lighter than the kiss I shall give my child.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, be it so, my lady; and get yourself calm, for you know not his + danger, if he should awaken and become agitated.” + </p> + <p> + They then reentered the apartment, and Lady Gourlay, after contemplating + him for a moment or two, stooped down and gently kissed his lips—once—twice—and + a third time—and a single tear fell upon his cheek. At this moment, + and the coincidence was beautiful and affecting, his face became once more + irradiated by a smile that was singularly serene and sweet, as if his very + spirit within him had recognized and felt the affection and tenderness of + this timid but loving embrace. + </p> + <p> + The stranger then led her out again, and a burden seemed to have been + taken off her heart. She dried her tears, and in grateful and fervid terms + expressed the deep obligations she owed him for his generous and! + persevering exertions in seeking out and restoring her son. + </p> + <p> + This sleep was a long one; and proved very beneficial, by somewhat + recruiting the little strength that had been left him. The stranger had + every measure taken that could contribute to his comfort and recovery. Two + nurse tenders were procured, to whose care he was committed, under the + general superintendence of Dandy Dulcimer, whom he at once recognized, and + by whose performance upon that instrument the poor young man seemed not + only much-pleased, but improved in confidence and the general powers of + his intellect. The physician saw him twice a day, so that at the period of + Lady Gourlay's visit, she found that every care and attention, which + consideration and kindness, and anxiety for his recovery could bestow upon + him, had been paid; a fact that eased and satisfied her mind very much. + </p> + <p> + One rather gratifying symptom appeared in him after he awoke on that + occasion. He looked about the room, and inquired for Dulcimer, who soon + made his appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Dandy,” said he, for he had known him very well in Ballytrain, “will you + be angry with me if I ask you a question? Dandy, I am a gentleman, and you + will not treat me ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I would be glad to see the villain that 'ud dare to do it, Mr. Fenton,” + replied Dandy, a good deal moved, “much less to do it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” he replied in a tone of voice that was enough to draw tears from any + eye, “but, then, I can depend on no one; and if they should bring me back + there—” His eyes became wild and full of horror, as he spoke, and he + was about to betray symptoms of strong agitation, when Dandy judiciously + brought him back to the point. + </p> + <p> + “They won't, Mr. Fenton; don't be afeared of that; you are among friends + now; but what was the question you were goin' to ask me?” + </p> + <p> + “A question!—was I?” said he, pausing, as if striving to recover the + train of thought he had lost. “Oh, yes,” he proceeded, “yes; there was a + pound note taken from me. I got it from the strange gentleman in the inn, + and I wish I had it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” replied Dandy, “if it can be got at all, you must have it. + I'll inquire for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” he said; “I wish to have it.” Dandy, in reply to the stranger's + frequent and anxious inquiries about him, mentioned this little dialogue, + and the latter at once recollected that he had the note in his possession. + </p> + <p> + “It may be good to gratify him,” he replied; “and as the note can be of + little use now, we had better let him have it.” + </p> + <p> + He accordingly sent it to him by Dandy, who could observe that the + possession of it seemed to give him peculiar satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Had not the stranger been a man capable of maintaining great restraint + over the exercise of very strong feelings, he could never have conducted + himself with so much calmness and self-control in his interview with Lady + Gourlay and poor Fenton. His own heart during all the time was in a tumult + of perfect distraction, but this was occasioned by causes that bore no + analogy to those that passed before him. From the moment he heard that + Lucy's marriage had been fixed for the next day but one, he felt as if his + hold upon hope and life, and all that they promised him, was lost, and his + happiness annihilated forever; he felt as if reason were about to abandon + him, as if all existence had become dark, and the sun himself had been + struck out of the system of the universe. He could not rest, and only with + difficulty think at all as a sane man ought. At length he resolved to see + the baronet, at the risk of life or death—in spite of every obstacle—in + despite of all opposition;—perish social forms and usages—perish + the insolence of wealth, and the jealous restrictions of parental tyranny. + Yes, perish one and all, sooner than he, a man, with an unshrinking heart, + and a strong arm, should tamely suitor that noble girl to be sacrificed, + ay, murdered, at the shrine of a black and guilty ambition. Agitated, + urged, maddened, by these considerations, he went to the baronet's house + with a hope of seeing him, but that hope was frustrated. Sir Thomas was + out. + </p> + <p> + “Was Miss Gourlay at home?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she too had gone out with her father,” replied Gibson, who happened + to open the door. + </p> + <p> + “Would you be kind enough, sir, to deliver a note to Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not, sir; I dare not.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you five pounds, if you do.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, sir; I should lose my situation instantly if I + attempted to deliver it. Miss Gourlay, sir, will receive no letters unless + through her father's hands, and besides, sir, we have repeatedly had the + most positive orders not to receive any from you, above all men living.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you ten pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Gibson shook his head, but at the same time the expression of his + countenance began manifestly to relax, and he licked his lips as he + replied, “I—really—could—not—sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty.” + </p> + <p> + The fellow paused and looked stealthily in every direction, when, just at + the moment he was about to entertain the subject, Thomas Corbet, the + house-steward, came forward from the front parlor where he evidently had + been listening, and asked Gibson what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + “This gentleman,” said Gibson, “ahem—is anxious to have a—ahem—he + was inquiring for Sir Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Gibson, go down stairs,” said Corbet. “You had better do so. I have ears, + Gibson. Go down at once, and leave the gentleman to me.” + </p> + <p> + Gibson again licked his lips, shrugged his shoulders, and with a visage + rather blank and disappointed, slunk away as he had been desired. When he + had gone, + </p> + <p> + “You wish, sir,” said Corbet, “to have a note delivered to Miss Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, and will give you twenty pounds if you deliver it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hand me the money quietly,” replied Corbet, “and the note also. I shall + then give you a friend's advice.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger immediately placed both the money and the note in his hands; + when Corbet, having put them in his pocket, said, “I will deliver the + note, sir; but go to my father, and ask him to prevent this marriage; and, + above all things, to direct you how to act. If any man can serve you in + the business, he can.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you not let me see Miss Gourlay herself?” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; she has promised her father neither to see you, nor to write to + you, nor to receive any letters from you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must see Sir Thomas himself,” said the stranger determinedly. + </p> + <p> + “You seem a good deal excited, sir,” replied Corbet; “pray, be calm, and + listen to me. I shall be obliged to put this letter under a blank cover, + which I will address in a feigned hand, in order that she may even receive + it. As for her father, he would not see you, nor enter into any + explanation whatsoever with you. In fact, he is almost out of his mind + with delight and terror; with delight, that the marriage is at length + about to take place, and with terror, lest something might occur to + prevent it. One word, sir. I see Gibson peeping up. Go and see my father; + you have seen him more than once before.” + </p> + <p> + On the part of Corbet, the stranger remarked that there was something + sneaking, slightly derisive, and intimating, moreover, a want of sincerity + in this short dialogue, an impression that was strengthened on hearing the + relation which he bore to the obstinate old sphinx on Constitution Hill. + </p> + <p> + “But pardon me, my friend,” said he, as Corbet was about to go away; “if + Miss Gourlay will not receive or open my letter, why did you accept such a + sum of money for it?” He paused, not knowing exactly how to proceed, yet + with a tolerably strong suspicion that Corbet was cheating him. + </p> + <p> + “Observe, sir,” replied the other, “that I said I would deliver the letter + only—I didn't undertake to make her read it. But I dare say you are + right—I don't think she will even open it at all, much less read it. + Here, sir, I return both money and letter; and I wish you to know, + besides, that I am not a man in the habit of being suspected of improper + motives. My advice that you should see my father is a proof that I am your + friend.” + </p> + <p> + The other, who was completely outmanoeuvred by Corbet, at once declined to + receive back either the letter or notes, and after again pressing the + worthy steward to befriend him in the matter of the note as far as he + could, he once more paid a visit to old Anthony. This occurred on the day + before that appointed for the marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Corbet,” said he, addressing him as he lay upon an old crazy sofa, the + tarnished cover of which shone with dirt, “I am distracted, and have come + to ask your advice and assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a helpless ould creature like me you'd come to?” replied Corbet, + hitching himself upon the sofa, as if to get ease. “But what is wrong + now?” + </p> + <p> + “If this marriage between Miss Gourlay and Lord Dunroe takes place, I + shall lose my senses.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in troth,” replied Anthony, in his own peculiar manner, “if you + don't get more than you appear to be gifted with at present, you won't + have much to lose, and that will be one comfort. But how can you expect me + to assist you?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not tell me that the baronet is your puppet?” + </p> + <p> + “I did; but that was for my ends, not for yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but could you not prevent this accursed, sacrilegious, blasphemous + union?” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, spake aisy, and keep yourself quiet,” said Anthony; “I am + ill, and not able to bear noise and capering like this. I'm a weak, feeble + ould man.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Corbet,” continued the other, with vehemence, “command my + purse, my means to any extent, if you do what I wish.” + </p> + <p> + “I did like money,” implied Corbet, “but of late my whole heart is filled + with but one thought; and rather than not carry that out, I would + sacrifice every child I have. I love Miss Gourlay, for I know she is a + livin' angel, but—” + </p> + <p> + “What? You do not mean to say that you would sacrifice her?” + </p> + <p> + “If I would sacrifice my own, do you think I'd be apt to spare her?” he + asked with a groan, for in fact his illness had rather increased. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not better?” inquired the stranger, moved by a feeling of + humanity which nothing could eradicate out of his noble and generous + nature. “Allow me to send a doctor to you? I shall do so at my own + expense.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony looked upon him with more complacency, but replied, + </p> + <p> + “The blackguard knaves, no; they only rob you first and kill you + afterwards. A highway-robber's before them; for he kills you first, and + afther that you can't feel the pain of being robbed. Well, I can't talk + much to you now. My head's beginnin' to get troublesome; but I'll tell you + what you'll do. I'll call for that young man, Fenton, and you must let him + come with me to the wedding to-morrow mornin'. Indeed, I intended to take + a car, and drive over to ask it as a favor from you.” + </p> + <p> + “To what purpose should he go, even if he were able? but he is too ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't he been out in a chaise?” + </p> + <p> + “He has; but as he is incapable of bearing any agitation or excitement, + his presence there might cause his death.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, it will not; I knew him to be worse, and he recovered; he will + be better, I tell you: besides, if you wish me to sarve you in one way, + you must sarve me in this.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you prevent the marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “What I can do, or what I cannot do, a team of horses won't drag out o' + me, until the time—the hour—comes—then! Will you allow + the young man to come, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “But his mother, you say, will be there, and a scene between them would be + not only distressing to all parties, and out of place, but might be + dangerous to him.” + </p> + <p> + “It's because his mother's to be there, maybe, that I want him to be + there. Don't I tell you that I want to—but no, I'll keep my own mind + to myself—only sink or swim without me, unless you allow him to + come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if he be sufficiently strong to go, I shall not prevent him, + upon the condition that you will exercise the mysterious influence which + you seem in possession of for the purpose of breaking up the marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't promise to do any such thing,” replied Anthony. “You must only + make the best of a bad bargain, by lavin' everything to myself. Go away + now, sir, if you plaise; my head's not right, and I want to keep it clear + for to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger saw that he was as inscrutable as ever, and consequently left + him, half in indignation, and half impressed by a lurking hope that, + notwithstanding the curtness of his manner, he was determined to befriend + him. + </p> + <p> + This, however, was far from the heart of old Corbet, whose pertinacity of + purpose nothing short of death itself could either moderate or change. + </p> + <p> + “Prevent the marriage, indeed! Oh, ay! Catch me at it. No, no; that must + take place, or I'm balked of half my revenge. It's when he finds that he + has, by his own bad and blind passions, married her to the profligate + without the title that he'll shiver. And that scamp, too, the bastard—but, + no matther—I must try and keep my head clear, as I said, for + to-morrow will be a great day, either for good or evil, to some of them. + Yes, and when all is over, then my mind will be at aise; this black thing + that's inside o' me for years—drivin' me on, on, on—will go + about his business; and then, plaise goodness, I can repent comfortably + and like a Christian. Oh, dear me!—my head!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. Denouement. + </h2> + <p> + At length the important morning, fraught with a series of such varied and + many-colored events, arrived. Sir Thomas Gourlay, always an early riser, + was up betimes, and paced his room to and fro in a train of profound + reflection. It was evident, however, from his elated yet turbid eye, that + although delight and exultation were prevalent in his breast, he was by no + means free from visitations of a dark and painful character. These he + endeavored to fling off, and in order to do so more effectually, he gave a + loose rein to the contemplation of his own successful ambition. Yet he + occasionally appeared anxious and uneasy, and felt disturbed and gloomy + fits that irritated him even for entertaining them. He was more than + usually nervous; his hand shook, and his stern, strong voice had in its + tones, when he spoke, the audible evidences of agitation. These, we say, + threw their deep shadows over his mind occasionally, whereas a sense of + triumph and gratified pride constituted its general tone and temper. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “so far so well: Lucy will soon become reconciled to this + step, and all my projects for her advancement will be—nay, already + are, realized. After all, my theory of life is the correct one, no matter + what canting priests and ignorant philosophers may say to the contrary. + Every man is his own providence, and ought to be his own priest, as I have + been. As for a moral plan in the incidents and vicissitudes of life, I + could never see nor recognize such a thing. Or if there be a Providence + that foresees and directs, then we only fulfil his purposes by whatever we + do, whether the act be a crime or a virtue. So that on either side I am + safe. There, to be sure, is my brother's son, against whom I have + committed a crime; ay, but what, after all, is a crime?—An injury to + a fellow-creature. What is a virtue?—A benefit to the same. Well, he + has sustained an injury at my hands—be it so—that is a crime; + but I and my son have derived a benefit from the act, and this turns it + into a virtue; for as to who gains or who loses, that is not a matter for + the world, who have no distinct rule whereby to determine its complexion + or its character, unless by the usages and necessities of life, which are + varied by climate and education to such an extent, that what is looked + upon as a crime in one country or one creed is frequently considered a + virtue in another. As for futurity, that is a sealed book which no man + hitherto has been able to open. We all know—and a dark and gloomy + fact it is—that we must die. Beyond that, the searches of human + intellect cannot go, although the imagination may project itself into a + futurity of its own creation. Such airy visions are not subjects + sufficiently solid for belief. As for me, if I believe nothing, the fault + is not mine, for I can find nothing to believe—nothing that can + satisfy my reason. The contingencies of life, as they cross and jostle + each other, constitute by their accidental results the only providential + wisdom which I can discern, the proper name of which is Chance. Who have + I, for instance, to thank but myself—my own energy of character, my + own perseverance of purpose, my own determined will—for + accomplishing my own projects? I can perceive no other agent, either + visible or invisible. It is, however, a hard creed—a painful creed, + and one which requires great strength of mind to entertain. Yet, on the + other hand, when I reflect that it may be only the result of a reaction in + principle, proceeding from a latent conviction that all is not right + within, and that we reject the tribunal because we are conscious that it + must condemn us—abjure the authority of the court because we have + violated its jurisdiction; yes, when I reflect upon this, it is then that + these visitations of gloom and wretchedness sometimes agonize my mind + until it becomes dark and heated, like hell, and I curse both myself and + my creed. Now, however, when this marriage shall have taken place, the + great object of my life will be gained—the great struggle will be + over, and I can relax and fall back into a life of comfort, enjoyment, and + freedom from anxiety and care. But, then, is there no risk of sacrificing + my daughter's happiness forever? I certainly would not do that. I know, + however, what influence the possession of rank, position, title, will have + on her, when she comes to know their value by seeing—ay, and by + feeling, how they are appreciated. There is not a husband-hunting dowager + in the world of fashion, nor a female projector or manoeuvrer in + aristocratic life, who will not enable her to understand and enjoy her + good fortune. Every sagacious cast for a title will be to her a homily on + content. But, above all, she will be able to see and despise their + jealousy, to laugh at their envy, and to exercise at their expense that + superiority of intellect and elevation of rank which she will possess; for + this I will teach her to do. Yes, I am satisfied. All will then go on + smoothly, and I shall trouble myself no more about creeds or covenants, + whether secular or spiritual.” + </p> + <p> + He then went to dress and shave after this complacent resolution, but was + still a good deal surprised to find that his hand shook so disagreeably, + and that his powerful system was in a state of such general and + unaccountable agitation. + </p> + <p> + After he had dressed, and was about to go down stairs, Thomas Corbet came + to ask a favor, as he said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Corbet,” replied his master, “what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “My father, sir,” proceeded the other, “wishes to know if you would have + any objection to his being present at Miss Gourlay's marriage, and if you + would also allow him to bring a few friends, who, he says, are anxious to + see the bride.” + </p> + <p> + “No objection, Corbet—none in the world; and least of all to your + father. I have found your family faithful and attached to my interests for + many a long year, and it would be too bad to refuse him such a paltry + request as that. Tell him to bring his friends too, and they may be + present at the ceremony, if they wish. It was never my intention that my + daughter's marriage should be a private one, nor would it now, were it not + for her state of health. Let your father's friends and yours come, then, + Corbet, and see that you entertain them properly.” + </p> + <p> + Corbet then thanked him, and was about to go, when the other said, + “Corbet!” after which he paused for some time. + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” said Corbet. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to ask your opinion,” he proceeded, “as to allowing my son to be + present. He himself wishes it, and asked my consent; but as his sister + entertains such an unaccountable prejudice against him, I had doubts as to + whether he ought to appear at all. There are, also, as you know, other + reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see any reason, sir, that ought to exclude him the moment the + marriage words are pronounced. I think, sir, with humility, that it is not + only his right, but his duty, to be present, and that it is a very proper + occasion for you to acknowledge him openly.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a devilish good hit at Dunroe, for, between you and me, + Corbet, I fear that his heart is fixed more upon the Gourlay estates and + her large fortune than upon the girl herself.” + </p> + <p> + If I might advise, sir, I think he ought to be present.” + </p> + <p> + “And the moment the ceremony is over, be introduced to his brother-in-law. + A good hit. I shall do it. Send word to him, then, Corbet. As it must be + done some time, it may as well be done now. Dunroe will of course be too + much elated, as he ought to be, to feel the blow—or to appear to + feel it, at all events—for decency's sake, you know, he must keep up + appearances; and if it were only on that account, we will avail ourselves + of the occasion which presents itself. This is another point gained. I + think I may so 'Bravo!' Corbet: I have managed everything admirably, and + accomplished all my purposes single-handed.” + </p> + <p> + Thomas Corbet himself, deep and cunning as he was, yet knew not how much + he had been kept in the dark as to the events of this fateful day. He had + seen his father the day before, as had his sister, and they both felt + surprised at the equivocal singularity of his manner, well and. thoroughly + as they imagined they had known him. It was, in fact, at his suggestion + that the baronet's son had been induced to ask permission to be present at + the wedding, and also to be then and there acknowledged; a fact which the + baronet either forgot or omitted to mention to Corbet. Anthony also + insisted that his daughter should make one of the spectators, under pain + of disclosing to Sir Thomas the imposition that had been practised on him + in the person of her son. Singular as it may appear, this extraordinary + old man, in the instance before us, moved, by his peculiar knowledge and + sagacity, as if he had them on wires, almost every person with whom he + came in contact, or whose presence he considered necessary on the + occasion. + </p> + <p> + “What can he mean?” said Thomas to his sister. “Surely he would not be mad + enough to make Sir Thomas's house the place in which to produce Lady + Gourlay's son, the very individual who is to strip him of his title, and + your son of all his prospects?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” replied Ginty, “certainly not; otherwise, why have lent himself + to the carrying out of our speculation with respect to that boy. Such a + step would ruin him—ruin us all—but then it would ruin the man + he hates, and that would gratify him, I know. He is full of mystery, + certainly; but as he will disclose nothing as to his movements, we must + just let him have his own way, as that is the only chance of managing + him.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Lucy could not be said to have awoke to a morning of despair and + anguish, because she had not slept at all the night before. Having got up + and dressed herself, by the aid of Alice, she leaned on her as far as the + boudoir to which allusion has already been made. On arriving there she sat + down, and when her maid looked upon her countenance she became so much + alarmed and distressed that she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “What, my darling mistress, is come over you?” she exclaimed. “You have + always spoken to me until this unhappy mornin' Oh, you are fairly in + despair now; and indeed is it any wonder? I always thought, and hoped, and + prayed that something might turn up to prevent this cursed marriage. I + see, I read, despair in your face.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy raised her large, languid eyes, and looked upon her, but did not + speak. She gave a ghastly smile, but that was all. + </p> + <p> + “Speak to me, dear Miss Gourlay,” exclaimed the poor girl, with a flood of + tears. “Oh, only speak to me, and let me hear your voice!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy beckoned her to sit beside her, and said, with difficulty, that she + wished to wet her lips. The girl knew by the few words she uttered that + her voice was gone; and on looking more closely she saw that her lips were + dry and parched. In a few moments she got her a glass of water, a portion + of which Lucy drank. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Alice, “that will relieve and refresh you; but oh, for God's + sake, spake to me, and tell me how you feel! Miss Gourlay, darlin', you + are in despair!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy took her maid's hand in hers, and after looking upon her with a smile + resembling the first, replied, “No, Alice, I will not despair, but I feel + that I will die. No, I will not despair, Alice. Short as the time is, God + may interpose between me and misery—between me and despair. But if I + am married to this man, Alice, my faith in virtue, in a good conscience, + in truth, purity, and honor, my faith in Providence itself will be shaken; + and then I will despair and die.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what do you mean, my darlin' Miss Gourlay?” exclaimed her weeping + maid. “Surely you couldn't think of having a hand in your own death? Oh, + merciful Father, see what they have brought you to!” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said she, “I have spoken wrongly: the moment in which I uttered + the last expression was a weak one. No, I will never doubt or distrust + Providence; and I may die, Alice, but I will never despair.” + </p> + <p> + “But why talk about death, miss, so much?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I feel it lurking in my heart. My physical strength will break + down under this woful calamity. I am as weak as an infant, and all before + me is dark—in this world I mean—but not, thank God, in the + next. Now I cannot speak much more, Alice. Leave me to my silence and to + my sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + The affectionate girl, utterly overcome, laid her head upon her bosom and + wept, until Lucy was forced to soothe and comfort her as well as she + could. They then sat silent for a time, the maid, however, sobbing and + sighing bitterly, whilst Lucy only uttered one word in an undertone, and + as if altogether to herself, “Misery! misery!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment her father tapped at the door, and on being admitted, + ordered Alice to leave the room; he wished to have some private + conversation, he said, with her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Don't make it long, if you please, sir,” said she, “for my mistress won't + be aquil to it. It's more at the point of death than the point of marriage + she is.” + </p> + <p> + One stern look from the baronet, however, silenced her in a moment, and + after a glance of most affectionate interest at her mistress she left the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” said her father, after contemplating that aspect of misery which + could not be concealed, “I am not at all pleased with this girlish and + whining appearance. I have done all that man could do to meet your wishes + and to make you happy. I have become reconciled to your aunt for your + sake. I have allowed her and Mrs. Norton—Mainwaring I mean—to + be present at your wedding, that they might support and give you + confidence. You are about to be married to a handsome young fellow, only a + little wild, but who will soon make you a countess. Now, in God's name, + what more do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she replied, “that I ought not to marry this man. I believe + that I stand justified in the sight of God and man in refusing to seal my + own misery. The promise I made you, sir, was given under peculiar + circumstances—under terror of your death. These circumstances are + now removed, and it is cruel to call on me to make a sacrifice that is a + thousand times worse than death. No, papa, I will not marry this depraved + man—this common seducer. I shall never unite myself to him, let the + consequences be what they may. There is a line beyond which parental + authority ought not to go—you have crossed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so, madam; I shall see you again in a few minutes,” he replied, and + immediately left the room, his face almost black with rage and + disappointment. Lucy grew alarmed at the terrible abruptness and + significance of his manner, and began to tremble, although she knew not + why. + </p> + <p> + “Can I violate my promise,” said she to herself, “after having made it so + solemnly? And ought I to marry this man in obedience to my father? Alas! I + know not; but may heaven direct me for the best! If I thought it would + make papa happy—but his is a restless and ambitious spirit, and how + can I be certain of that? May heaven direct me and guide me!” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes afterwards her father returned, and taking out of his + pockets a pair of pistols, laid them on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Lucy,” said he solemnly, and with a vehemence of manner almost + frantic, “we will see if you cannot yet save your father's life, or + whether you will prefer to have his blood on your soul.” + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake, papa,” said his daughter, running to him, and throwing + or attempting to throw her arms about him, partly, in the moment of + excitement, to embrace, and partly to restrain him. + </p> + <p> + “Hold off, madam,” he replied; “hold off; you have made me desperate—you + have driven me mad. Now, mark me. I will not ask you to marry this man; + but I swear by all that is sacred, that if you disgrace me—if you + insult Lord Dunroe by refusing to be united to him this day—I shall + put the contents of one or both of these pistols through my brains; and + you may comfort yourself over the corpse of a suicide father, and turn to + your brother for protection.” + </p> + <p> + Either alternative was sufficiently dreadful for the poor worn and wearied + out girl. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa,” she exclaimed, again attempting to throw her arms around him; + “put these fearful weapons aside. I will obey you—I will marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “This day?” + </p> + <p> + “This day, papa, as soon as my aunt and Mrs. Mainwaring come, and I can + get myself dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so, then; or, if not I shall not survive your refusal five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, papa,” she replied, laying her head upon his breast and sobbing; + “I will marry him; but put those vile and dangerous weapons away, and + never talk so again.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door opened, and Alice, who had been listening, entered + the room in a high and towering passion. Her eyes sparkled: her complexion + was scarlet with rage; her little hands were most heroically clenched; + and, altogether, the very excitement in which she presented herself, + joined to a good face and fine figure, made her look exceedingly + interesting and handsome. + </p> + <p> + “How, madam,” exclaimed the baronet, “what brings you here? Withdraw + instantly!” + </p> + <p> + “How, yourself, sir,” she replied, walking up and looking him fearlessly + in the face; “none of your 'how, madams,' to me any more; as there's + neither man nor woman to interfere here, I must only do it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave the room, you brazen jade!” shouted the baronet; “leave the room, + or it'll be worse for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Deuce a one toe I'll lave it. It wasn't for that I came here, but to tell + you that you are a tyrant and a murdherer, a mane old schemer, that would + marry your daughter to a common swindler and reprobate, because he's a + lord. But here I stand, the woman that will prevent this marriage, if + there wasn't another faymale from here to Bally-shanny.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice!” exclaimed Lucy, “for heaven's sake, what do you mean?—what + awful language is this? You forget yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be, miss, but, by the life in my body, I won't forget you. A + ring won't go on you to that titled scamp so long as I have a drop of + manly blood in my veins—deuce a ring!” + </p> + <p> + Amazement almost superseded indignation on the part of the baronet, who + unconsciously exclaimed, “A ring!” + </p> + <p> + “No—pursuin' to the ring!” she replied, accompanying the words with + what was intended to be a fearful blow of her little clenched hand upon + the table. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go, Lucy,” said her father, “till I put the termagant out of the + room.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let him go, miss,” replied Alley; “let us see what he'll do. Here I + stand now,” she proceeded, approaching him; “and if you offer to lift a + hand to me, I'll lave ten of as good marks in your face as ever a woman + left since the creation. Come, now—am I afeard of you?” and as she + spoke she approached him still more nearly, with both her hands close to + his face, her fingers spread out and half-clenched, reminding one of a + hawk's talons. + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said Lucy, “this is shocking; if you love me, leave the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Love you! miss,” replied the indignant but faithful girl, bursting into + bitter tears; “love you!—merciful heaven, wouldn't I give my life + for you?—who that knows you doesn't love you? and it's for that + reason that I don't wish to see you murdhered—nor won't. Come, sir, + you must let her out of this marriage. It'll be no go, I tell you. I won't + suffer it, so long as I've strength and life. I'll dash myself between + them. I'll make the ole clergyman skip if he attempts it; ay, and what's + more, I'll see Dandy Dulcimer, and we'll collect a faction.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not hold me, Lucy,” said her father; “I must certainly put her out of + the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, papa,” replied Lucy, restraining him from laying hands upon her, + “don't, for the sake of honor and manhood. Alice, for heaven's sake! if + you love me, as I said, and I now add, if you respect me, leave the room. + You will provoke papa past endurance.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a single toe, miss, till he promises to let you cut o' this match. + Oh, my good man,” she said, addressing the struggling baronet, “if you're + for fighting, here I am I for you; or wait,” she added, whipping up one of + the pistols, “Come, now, if you're a man; take your ground there. Now I + can meet you on equal terms; get to the corner there, the distance is + short enough; but no matther, you're a good mark. Come, now, don't think + I'm the bit of goods to be afeard o' you—it's not the first jewel + I've seen in my time, and remember that my name is Mahon”—and she + posted herself in the corner, as if to take her ground. “Come, now,” she + repeated, “you called me a 'brazen jade' awhile ago, and I demand + satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said Lucy, “you will injure yourself or others, if you do not lay + that dangerous weapon down. For God's sake, Alice, lay it aside—it + is loaded.” + </p> + <p> + “Deuce a bit o' danger, miss,” replied the indignant heroine. “I know more + about fire-arms than you think; my brothers used to have them to protect + the house. I'll soon see, at any rate, whether it's loaded or not.” + </p> + <p> + While speaking she whipped out the ramrod, and, making the experiment + found, that it was empty. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” she exclaimed, “you desateful old tyrant: and so you came down + blusterin' and bullyin', and frightenin' your child into compliance, with + a pair of empty pistols! By the life in my body, if I had you in + Ballytrain, I'd post you.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Lucy, “you must excuse this—it is the excess of her + affection for me. Dear Alice,” she said, addressing her, and for a moment + forgetting her weakness, “come with me; I cannot, and will not bear this; + come with me out of the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; I'll go to plaise you, miss, but I've made up my mind that + this marriage mustn't take place. Just think of it,” she added, turning to + her master; “if you force her to marry this scamp of a lord, the girl has + sense, and spirit, and common decency, and of course she'll run away from + him; after that, it won't be hard to guess who she'll run to—then + there'll be a con. crim. about it, and it'll go to the lawyers, and from + the lawyers it'll go to the deuce, and that will be the end of it; and all + because you're a coarse-minded tyrant, unworthy of having such a daughter. + Oh, you needn't shake your hand at me. You refused to give me + satisfaction, and I'd now scorn to notice you. Remember I cowed you, and + for that reason never pretend to be a gentleman afther this.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy then led her out of the room, which she left, after turning upon her + master a look of the proudest and fiercest defiance, and at the same time + the most sovereign contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” said her father, “is not this a fine specimen of a maid to have in + personal attendance upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not defend her conduct now, sir,” she replied; “but I cannot + overlook her affection, her truth, her attachment to me, nor the many + other virtues which I know she possesses. She is somewhat singular, I + grant, and a bit of a character, and I could wish that her manners were + somewhat less plain; but, on the other hand, she does not pretend to be a + fine lady with her mistress, although she is not without some harmless + vanity; neither is she frivolous, giddy, nor deceitful; and whatever + faults there may be, papa, in her head, there are none in her heart. It is + affectionate, faithful, and disinterested. Indeed, whilst I live I shall + look upon her as my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I am determined, however, she shall not be long under my roof, nor in + your service; her conduct just now has settled that point; but, putting + her out of the question, I trust we understand each other, and that you + are prepared to make your father's heart happy. No more objections.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I have said so.” + </p> + <p> + “You will go through the ceremony with a good grace?' + </p> + <p> + “I cannot promise that, sir; but I shall go through the ceremony.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you must do it without offence to Dunroe, and with as little + appearance of reluctance as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no desire to draw a painful attention to myself, papa; but you + will please to recollect that I have all my horror, all my detestation of + this match to contend with; and, I may add, my physical weakness, and the + natural timidity of woman. I shall, however, go through the ceremony, + provided nature and reason do not fail me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lucy, of course you will do the best you can. I must go now, for + I've many things to think of. Your dresses are admirable, and your + trousseau, considering the short time Dunroe had, is really superb. Shake + hands, my dear Lucy; you know I will soon lose you.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, whose heart was affection itself, threw herself into his arms, and + exclaimed, in a burst of grief: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa, I feel that you will; and, perhaps, when I am gone, you will + say, with sorrow, that it would have been better to have allowed Lucy to + be happy her own way.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, you foolish, naughty girl,” he exclaimed affectionately, “be + good—be good.” And as he spoke, he kissed her, pressed her hand + tenderly, and then left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” exclaimed Lucy, still in tears, “how happy might we have been, had + this ambition for my exaltation not existed in my father's heart!” + </p> + <p> + If Lucy rose with a depressed spirit on that morning of sorrow, so did not + Lord Dunroe. This young nobleman, false and insincere in everything, had + succeeded in inducing his sister to act as brides-maid, Sir Thomas having + asked her consent as a personal compliment to himself and his daughter. + She was told by her brother that young Roberts would act in an analogous + capacity to him; and this he held out as an inducement to her, having + observed something like an attachment between her and the young ensign. + Not that he at all approved of this growing predilection, for though + strongly imbued with all the senseless and absurd prejudices against + humble birth which disgrace aristocratic life and feeling, he was base + enough to overrule his own opinions on the subject, and endeavor, by this + unworthy play upon his sister's feelings, to prevail upon her to do an act + that would throw her into his society, and which, under any other + circumstances, he would have opposed. He desired her, at the same time, + not to mention the fact to their father, who, he said, entertained a + strong prejudice against upstarts, and was besides, indisposed to the + marriage, in consequence of Sir Thomas Goulray's doubtful reputation, as + regarding the disappearance of his brother's heir. In consequence of these + representations, Lady Emily not only consented to act as bride's-maid; but + also to keep her knowledge of the forthcoming marriage a secret from her + father. + </p> + <p> + At breakfast that morning Dunroe was uncommonly cheerful. Norton, on the + other hand, was rather depressed, and could not be prevailed upon to + partake of the gay and exuberant spirit of mirth and buoyancy which + animated Dunroe. + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce is the matter with you, Norton?” said his lordship. “You + seem rather annoyed that I am going to marry a very lovely girl with an + immense fortune? With both, you know very well that I can manage without + either the Cullamore title or property. The Gourlay property is as good if + not better. Come, then, cheer up; if the agency of the Cullamore property + is gone, we shall have that on the Gourlay side to look to.” + </p> + <p> + “Dunroe, my dear fellow,” replied Norton, “I am thinking of nothing so + selfish. That which distresses me is, that I will lose my friend. This + Miss Gourlay is, they say, so confoundedly virtuous that I dare say she + will allow no honest fellow, who doesn't carry a Bible and a Prayer-book + in his pocket, and quote Scripture in conversation, to associate with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, man,” replied Dunroe, “I have satisfied you on that point + before. But I say, Norton, is not this a great bite on the baronet, + especially as he considers himself a knowing one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I grant you, a great bite, no doubt; but, at the same time, I rather + guess you may thank me for the possession of Miss Gourlay, and the + property which will go along with her.” + </p> + <p> + “As how, Norton?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, don't you remember the anonymous note which I wrote to the baronet, + when I was over in Dublin to get the horse changed? He was then at Red + Hall. I am certain that were it not for that hint, there would have been + an elopement. You know it was the fellow who shot you, that was then in + her neighborhood, and he is at present in town. I opened the baronet's + eyes at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, to tell you the truth, Norton, although I know you do me in money + matters now and then, still I believe you to be a faithful fellow. In + fact, you owe me more than you are aware of. You know not how I have + resisted the respectable old nobleman's wishes to send you adrift as an + impostor and cheat. I held firm, however, and told him I could never with + honor abandon my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks, Dunroe; but I really must say that I am neither an impostor + nor a cheat; and that if ever a man was true friend and faithful to man, I + am that friend to your lordship; not, God knows, because you are a lord, + but because you are a far better thing—a regular trump. A cheat! + curse it,” clapping his hands over his eyes, to conceal his emotion, + “isn't my name Norton? and am I not your friend?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a servant came in, and handed Lord Dunroe a note, which he + was about to throw to Norton, who generally acted as a kind of secretary + to him; but observing the depth and sincerity and also the modesty of his + feelings, he thought it indelicate to trouble him with it just then. + Breakfast was now over, and Dunroe, throwing himself back in an arm-chair, + opened the letter—read it—then another that was contained in + it; after which he rose up, and travelled the room with a good deal of + excitement. He then approached Norton, and said, in a voice that might be + said to have been made up of heat and cold, “What disturbs you?” + </p> + <p> + Norton winked both eyes, did the pathetic a bit, then pulled out his + pocket handkerchief, and blew his nose up to a point little short of + distress itself. In the meantime, Dunroe suddenly left the room without + Norton's knowledge, who replied, however, to the last question, under the + impression that his lordship was present, + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear Dunroe, the loss of a true friend is a serious thing in a + world like this, where so many cheats and impostors are going.” + </p> + <p> + To this, however, he received no reply; and on looking round and finding + that his dupe had gone out, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Curse the fellow—he has cut me short. I was acting friendship to + the life, and now he has disappeared. However, I will resume it when I + hear his foot on the return. His hat is there, and I know he will come + back for it.” + </p> + <p> + Nearly ten minutes had elapsed, during which he was making the ham and + chicken disappear, when, on hearing a foot which he took for granted must + be that of his lordship, he once more threw himself into his former + attitude, and putting the handkerchief again to his eyes, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord. A cheat! Curse it, isn't my name Norton? and am I not your + friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, upon my soul, Barney, you used of ould to bring out only one lie at + a time but now you give them in pairs. 'Isn't my name Norton?' says you. I + kept the saicret bekaise you never meddled with Lord Cullamore or Lady + Emily, or attempted your tricks on them, and for that raison you ought to + thank me. Here's a note from Lord Dunroe, who looks as black as midnight.” + </p> + <p> + “What! a note from Dunroe!” exclaimed Norton. “Why he only left me this + minute! What the deuce can this mean?” + </p> + <p> + He opened the note, and read, to his dismay and astonishment as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Infamous and treacherous scoundrel,—I have this moment received + your letter to Mr. Birney, enclosed by that gentleman to me, in which you + offer, for a certain sum, to betray me, by placing in the hands of my + enemies the very documents you pretended to have destroyed. I now know the + viper I have cherished—begone. You are a cheat, an impostor, and a + villain, whose name is not Norton, but Bryan, once a horse-jockey on the + Curragh, and obliged to fly the country for swindling and dishonesty. + Remove your things instantly; but that shall not prevent me from tracing + you and handing you over to justice for your knavery and fraud. + </p> + <p> + “DUNROE.” + </p> + <p> + “All right! Morty—-all right!” exclaimed Norton; “upon my soul, + Dunroe is too generous. You know he is going to be married to-day. Was + that Roberts who went up stairs?” + </p> + <p> + “It was the young officer, if that's his name,” replied Morty. + </p> + <p> + “All right! Morty; he's to be groom's-man—that will do; this + requires no answer. The generous fellow has made me a present on his + wedding-day. That will do, Morty; you may go.” + </p> + <p> + “All's discovered,” he exclaimed, when Morty was gone; “however, it's not + too late: I shall give him a Roland for his Oliver before we part. It will + be no harm to give the the respectable old nobleman a hint of what's going + on, at any rate. This discovery, however, won't signify, for I know + Dunroe. The poor fool has no self-reliance; but if left to himself would + die. He possesses no manly spirit of independent will, no firmness, no + fixed principle—he is, in fact, a noun adjective, and cannot stand + alone. Depraved in his appetites and habits of life, he cannot live + without some hanger-on to enjoy his freaks of silly and senseless + profligacy, who can praise and laugh at him, and who will act at once as + his butt, his bully, his pander, and his friend; four capacities in which + I have served him—at his own expense, be it said. No; my ascendancy + over him has been too long established, and I know that, like a prime + minister who has been hastily dismissed, I shall be ultimately recalled. + And yet he is not without gleams of sense, is occasionally sprightly, and + has perceptions of principle that might have made him a man—an + individual being: but now, having neither firmness, resolution to carry + out a good purpose, nor self-respect, he is a miserable and wretched + cipher, whose whole value depends on the figure that is next him. Yes, I + know—I feel—he will recall me to his councils.” + </p> + <p> + At length the hour of half-past eleven arrived, and in Sir Thomas + Gourlay's drawing-room were assembled all those who had been asked to be + present, or to take the usual part in the marriage ceremony. Dr. Sombre, + the clergyman of the parish, had just arrived, and, having entered the + drawing-room, made a bow that would not have disgraced a bishop. He was + pretty well advanced in years, excessively stupid, and possessed so vile a + memory for faces, that he was seldom able to recognize his own guests, if + he happened to meet them in the streets on the following day. He was an + expectant for preferment in the church, and if the gift of a good appetite + were a successful recommendation for a mitre, as that of a strong head has + been before now, no man was better entitled to wear it. Be this as it may, + the good man, who expected to partake of an excellent <i>dejuner</i>, felt + that it was a portion of his duty to give a word or two of advice to the + young couple upon the solemn and important duties into the discharge of + which they were about to enter. Accordingly, looking round the room, he + saw Mr. Roberts and Lady Emily engaged, at a window, in what appeared to + him to be such a conversation as might naturally take place between + parties about to be united. Lucy had not yet made her appearance, but + Dunroe was present, and on seeing the Rev. Doctor join them, was not at + all sorry at the interruption. This word of advice, by the way, was a + stereotyped commodity with the Doctor, who had not married a couple for + the last thirty years, without palming it on them as an extempore piece of + admonition arising from that particular occasion. The worthy man was, + indeed, the better qualified to give it, having never been married + himself, and might, therefore, be considered as perfectly free from + prejudices affecting either party upon the subject. + </p> + <p> + “You, my dear children, are the parties about to be united?” said he, + addressing Roberts and Lady Emily, with a bow that had in it a strong + professional innuendo, but of what nature was yet to be learned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied Roberts, who at once perceived the good man's mistake, + and was determined to carry out whatever jest might arise from it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, sir,” replied Lady Emily, blushing deeply; “we are not the + parties.” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” proceeded the Doctor, “I think I could not do better than give + you, while together, a few words—just a little homily, as it were—upon + the nature of the duties into which you are about to enter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I have told you,” replied Lady Emily, again, “that we are not the + parties, Dr. Sombre.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind her, Doctor,” said Roberts—assuming, with becoming + gravity, the character of the intended husband: “the Doctor, my dear, + knows human nature too well not to make allowances for the timidity + peculiar to your situation. Come, my, love be firm, and let us hear what + he has to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the Doctor, “I can understand that; I knew I was right: and + all you want now is the ceremony to make you man and wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Indisputable, Doctor; nothing can be more true. These words might almost + appear as an appendix to the Gospel.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my children,” proceeded the Doctor, “listen—marriage may be + divided—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it was rather a union, Doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is, child,” replied the Doctor, in the most matter-of-fact spirit; + “but you know that even Unions can be divided. When I was induced to the + Union of Ballycomeasy and Ballycomsharp I—” + </p> + <p> + “But, Doctor,” said Roberts, “I beg your pardon, I have interrupted you. + Will you have the kindness to proceed? my fair partner, here, is very + anxious to hear your little homily—are you not, my love?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Emily was certainly pressed rather severely to maintain her gravity—in + fact, so much so, that she was unable to reply, Robert's composure being + admirable. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” resumed the Doctor, “as I was saying—Marriage may be divided + into three heads—” + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake, make it only two, if possible, my dear Doctor,” said + Roberts: “the appearance of a third head is rather uncomfortable, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + —“Into three heads—first, its duties; next, its rights; and + lastly, its tribulations.” + </p> + <p> + The Doctor, we may observe, was in general very unlucky, in the reception + which fell to the share of his little homily—the fact being with it + as with its subject in actual life, that his audience, however they might + feel upon its rights and duties, were very anxious to avoid its + tribulations in any sense, and the consequence was, that in nineteen cases + out of twenty the reverend bachelor himself was left in the midst of them. + Such was his fate here; for at this moment Sir Thomas Gourlay entered the + drawing-room, and approaching Lady Emily, said, “I have to apologize to + you, Lady Emily, inasmuch as it is I who am to blame for Miss Gourlay's + not having seen you sooner. On a subject of such importance, it is natural + that a father should have some private conversation with her, and indeed + this was the case; allow me now to conduct you to her.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no apology whatsoever necessary, Sir Thomas,” replied her + ladyship, taking his arm, and casting a rapid but precious glance at + Roberts. As they went up stairs, the baronet said, in a voice of great + anxiety, + </p> + <p> + “You will oblige me, Lady Emily, by keeping her from the looking-glass as + much as possible. I have got her maid—who, although rather plain in + her manners, has excellent taste in all matters connected with the + toilette—I have got her to say, while dressing her, that it is not + considered lucky for a bride to see herself in a looking-glass on the day + of her marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should she not, Sir Thomas?” asked the innocent and lovely girl: + “if ever a lady should consult her glass, it is surely upon such an + occasion as this.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant it,” he replied; “but then her paleness—is—is—her + looks altogether are so—in fact, you may understand me, Lady Emily—she + is, in consequence of her very delicate health—in consequence of + that, I say, she is more like a corpse than a living being—in + complexion I mean. And now, my dear Lady Emily, will you hurry her? I am + anxious—that is to say, we all are—to have the ceremony over + as soon as it possibly can. She will then feel better, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Sombre, seeing that one of the necessary audience to his little homily + had disappeared, seemed rather disappointed, but addressed himself to + Roberts upon a very different subject. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say,” said he, “we shall have a very capital dejeuner to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Roberts was startled at the rapid and carnal nature of the transition in + such a reverend-looking old gentleman; but as the! poor Doctor had + sustained a disappointment on the subject of the homily, he was determined + to afford him some comfort on this. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said he, “from the best authority, that nothing like it + has been seen for years in the city. Several of the nobility and gentry + have privately solicited Sir Thomas for copies of the bill of fare.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all right,” replied the Doctor, “that is all excellent, my good + young friend. Who is that large gentleman who has just come in?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” replied Roberts, astonished, “that is Sir Thomas Gourlay + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, and so it is,” replied the Doctor; “he is getting very fat—eh? + Ay, all right, and will make excellent eating if the cooking be good.” + </p> + <p> + Roberts saw at once what the worthy Doctor was thinking of, and resolved + Lo suggest some other topic, if it were only to punish him for bestowing + such attention upon a subject so much at variance with thoughts that ought + to occupy the mind of a minister of God. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard, Doctor, that you are a bachelor,” said he. “How did it + happen, pray, that you kept aloof from marriage?” + </p> + <p> + The Doctor, who had been contemplating his own exploits at the dejuner, + now that Roberts had mentioned marriage, took it for granted that he + wanted him to proceed with his homily, and tried to remember where he had + left off. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said he, “about marriage; I stopped at its tribulations. I + think I had got over its rights and duties, but I stopped at its + tribulations—yes, its tribulations. Very well my dear friend,” he + proceeded, taking him by the hand, and leading him over to a corner, + “accompany me, and you shall enter them now. Where is the young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “She will be here by and by,” replied Roberts; “I think you had better + wait till she comes.” + </p> + <p> + The Doctor paused for some time, and following up the idea of the dejuner, + said, “I am fond of wild fowl now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fie, Doctor,” replied the Ensign; “I did not imagine that so grave a + personage as you are could be fond of anything wild.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” replied the Doctor, “ever while you live prefer the wild to the + tame; every one, sir,” he added, taking the other by the button, “that + knows what's what, in that respect, does it. Well, but about the + tribulations.” + </p> + <p> + As usual the Doctor was doomed to be left in them, for just as he spoke + the doors were thrown more widely open, and Lucy, leaning upon, or rather + supported by, her aunt and Lady Emily, accompanied by Mrs. Mainwaring, + entered the room. Her father had been in close conversation with Dunroe; + but not all his efforts at self-possession and calmness could prevent his + agitation and anxiety from being visible. His eye was unsettled and + blood-shot; his manner uneasy, and the whole bearing indicative of hope, + ecstasy, apprehension, and doubt, all flitting across each other like + clouds in a sky troubled by adverse currents, but each and all telling a + tale of the tumult which was going on within him. + </p> + <p> + Yes, Lucy was there, but, alas the day! what a woful sight did she present + to the spectators. The moment she had come down, the servants, and all + those who had obtained permission to be present at the ceremony, now + entered the large drawing-room to witness it. Tom Gourlay entered a little + after his sister, followed in a few minutes by old Anthony, accompanied by + Fenton, who leant upon him, and was provided with an arm-chair in a remote + corner of the room. After them came Thomas Corbet and his sister, Ginty + Cooper, together with old Sam Roberts, and the man named Skipton, with + whom the reader has already been made acquainted. + </p> + <p> + But how shall we describe the bride—the wretched, heart-broken + victim of an ambition that was as senseless as it was inhuman? It was + impossible for one moment to glance at her without perceiving that the + stamp of death, misery, and despair, was upon her; and yet, despite of all + this, she carried with her and around her a strange charm, an atmosphere + of grace, elegance, and beauty, of majestic virtue, of innate greatness of + mind, of wonderful truth, and such transparent purity of heart and + thought, that when she entered the room all the noise and chat and + laughter were instantly hushed, and a sense of solemn awe, as if there + were more than a marriage here, came over all present. Nay, more. We shall + not pretend to trace the cause and origin of this extraordinary sensation. + Originate as it may, it told a powerful and startling tale to her father's + heart; but in truth she had not been half a minute in the room when, such + was the dignified but silent majesty of her sorrow, that there were few + eyes there that were not moist with tears. The melancholy impressiveness + of her character, her gentleness, her mournful resignation, the patience + with which she suffered, could not for one moment be misunderstood, and + the contagion of sympathy, and of common humanity, in the fate of a + creature apparently more divine than human, whose sorrow was read as if by + intuition, spread through them with a feeling of strong compassion that + melted almost every I heart, and sent the tears to every eye. + </p> + <p> + Her father approached her, and whispered to her, and caressed her, and + seemed playful and even light-hearted, as if the day were a day of joy; + but out strongly against his mirth stood the solemn spirit of her sorrow; + and when he went to bring over Dunroe, and when he took her passive hand, + in order to place it in his—the agony, the horror, with which she + submitted to the act, were expressed in a manner that made her appear, as + that which she actually was, the lovely but pitiable victim of ambition. + Alley Mahon's grief was loud; Lady Gourlay, Mrs. Mainwaring, Lady Emily, + all were in tears. + </p> + <p> + “I am proud to see this,” said Sir Thomas, bowing, as if he were bound to + thank them, and attempting, with his usual tact, to turn their very + sympathy into a hollow and untruthful compliment; “I am proud to see this + manifestation of strong attachment to my daughter; it is a proof of how + she is loved.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy had not once opened her lips. She had not strength to do so; her very + voice had abandoned her. + </p> + <p> + Two or three persons besides the baronet and the bridegroom felt a deep + interest in what was going forward, or about to go forward. Thomas Gourlay + now absolutely hated her; so did his mother; so did his uncle, Thomas + Corbet. Each and all of them felt anxious to have her married, in order + that she might be out of Tom's way, and that he might enjoy a wider sphere + of action. Old Anthony Corbet stood looking on, with his thin lips + compressed closely together, his keen eyes riveted on the baronet, and an + expression legible on every trace of his countenance, such as might well + have constituted him some fearful incarnation of hatred and vengeance. + Lady Gourlay was so completely engrossed by Lucy that she did not notice + Fenton, and the latter, from his position, could see nothing of either the + bride or the baronet, but their backs. + </p> + <p> + Lord Dunroe felt that his best course was to follow the advice of Sir + Thomas, which was, not to avail himself of his position with Lucy, but to + observe a respectful manner, and to avoid entering into any conversation + whatsoever with her, at least until after the ceremony should be + performed. He consequently kept his distance, with the exception of + receiving her passive hand, as we have shown, and maintained a low and + subdued conversation with Mr. Roberts. The only person likely to interrupt + the solemn feeling which prevailed was old Sam, who had his handkerchief + several times alternately to his nose and eyes, and who looked about him + with an indignant expression, that seemed to say, “There's something wrong + here—some one ought to speak; I wish my boy would step forward. + This, surely, is not the heart of man.” + </p> + <p> + At length the baronet approached Lucy, and seemed, by his action, as well + as his words, to ask her consent to something. Lucy looked at him, but + neither by her word nor gesture appeared to accede to or refuse his + request; and her father, after complacently bowing, as if to thank her for + her acquiescence, said, + </p> + <p> + “I think, Dr. Sombre, we require your services; the parties are assembled + and willing, and the ceremony had better take place.” + </p> + <p> + Thomas Corbet had been standing at a front window, and Alley Mahon, on + hearing the baronet's words, instantly changed her position to the front + of Lucy, as if she intended to make a spring between her and Dunroe, as + soon as the matter should come to a crisis. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Dr. Sombre advanced with his book, and Lord Dunroe was led + over by Roberts to take his position opposite the bride, when a noise of + carriage-wheels was heard coming rapidly along, and stopping as rapidly at + the hall door. In an instant a knock that almost shook the house, and + certainly startled some of the females, among whom was the unhappy bride + herself, was heard at the hall door, and the next moment Thomas Corbet + hurried out of the room, as if to see who had arrived, instantly followed + by Gibson. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Sombre, who now stood with his finger between the leaves of his book, + where its frequent pressure had nearly obliterated the word “obedience” in + the marriage ceremony, said, + </p> + <p> + “My dear children, it is a custom of mine—and it is so because I + conceive it a duty—to give you a few preliminary words of advice, a + little homily, as it were, upon the nature of the duties into which you + are about to enter.” + </p> + <p> + This intimation was received with solemn silence, if we except the word + “Attention!” which proceeded in a respectful and earnest, but subdued tone + from old Sam. The Doctor looked about him a little startled, but again + proceeded, + </p> + <p> + “Marriage, my children, may be divided into three heads: first, its + duties; next, its rights; and lastly, its tribulations. I place + tribulations last, my children, because, if it were not for its + tribulations—” + </p> + <p> + “My good friend,” said Sir Thomas, with impatience, “we will spare you the + little homily you speak of, until after the ceremony. I dare say it is + designed for married life and married people; but as those for whose + especial advantage you are now about to give it are not man and wife yet, + I think you had better reserve it until you make them so. Proceed, Doctor, + if you please, with the ceremony.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the pleasure of knowing you, sir,” replied the Doctor; “I + shall be guided here only by Sir Thomas Gourlay himself, as father of the + bride.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Doctor, what the deuce is the matter with you? Am not I Sir Thomas + Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + The Doctor put up his spectacles on his forehead, and looking at him more + closely, exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, and so you are. I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas, but with + respect to this dejeuner—homily, I would say—its enunciation + here is exceedingly appropriate, and it is but short, and will not occupy + more than about half-an-hour, or three-quarters, which is only a brief + space when the happiness of a whole life is concerned. Well, my children, + I was speaking about this <i>dejuner</i>,” he proceeded; “the time, as I + said, will not occupy more than half-an-hour, or probably three-quarters; + and, indeed, if our whole life were as agreeably spent—I refer now + especially to married life—its tribulations would not—” + </p> + <p> + Here he was left once more in his tribulations, for as he uttered the last + word, Gibson returned, pronouncing in a distinct but respectful voice, + “The Earl of Cullamore;” and that nobleman, leaning upon the arm of his + confidential servant, Morty O'Flaherty, immediately entered the room. + </p> + <p> + His venerable look, his feeble state of health, but, above all his amiable + character, well known as it was for everything that was honorable and + benevolent, produced the effect which might be expected. All who were not + standing, immediately rose up to do him reverence and honor. He inclined + his head in token of acknowledgment, but even before the baronet had time + to address him, he said, + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay, has this marriage yet taken place?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord,” replied Sir Thomas, “and I am glad it has not. Your + lordship's presence is a sanction and an honor which, considering your + state of ill-health, is such as we must all duly appreciate. I am + delighted to see you here, my lord; allow me to help your lordship to a + seat.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Sir Thomas,” replied his lordship; “but before I take a + seat, or before you proceed further in this business, I beg to have some + private conversation with you.” + </p> + <p> + “With infinite pleasure, my lord,” replied the baronet. “Dr. Sombre, + whilst his lordship and I are speaking, you may as well go on with the + ceremony. When it is necessary, call me, and I shall give the bride away.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Sombre,” said his lordship, “do not proceed with the ceremony, until + I shall have spoken to Miss Gourlay's father. If it be necessary that I + should speak more plainly, I say, I forbid the banns. You will not have to + wait long, Doctor; but by no means proceed with the ceremony until you + shall have permission from Sir Thomas Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + In general, any circumstance that tends to prevent a marriage, where all + the parties are assembled to witness it, and to enjoy the festivities that + attend it, is looked upon with a strong feeling of dissatisfaction. Here, + however, the case was different. Scarcely an individual among them, with + the exception of those who were interested in the event, that did not feel + a sense of relief at what had occurred in consequence of the appearance of + Lord Cullamore. Dunroe's face from that moment was literally a sentence of + guilt against himself. It became blank, haggard, and of a ghastly white; + while his hope of securing the rich and lovely heiress died away within + him. He resolved, however, to make a last effort. + </p> + <p> + “Roberts,” said he, “go to Sombre, and whisper to him to proceed with the + ceremony. Get him to perform it, and you are sure of a certain sister of + mine, who I rather suspect is not indifferent to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I must decline to do so, my lord,” replied Roberts. “After what has just + occurred, I feel that it would not be honorable in me, neither would it be + respectful to your father. However I may esteem your sister, my lord, and + appreciate her virtues, yet I am but a poor ensign, as you know, and not + in a capacity to entertain any pretensions—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied Dunroe, interrupting him, “bring that old dog Sombre + here, will you? I trust you will so far oblige me.” + </p> + <p> + Roberts complied with this; but the Doctor was equally firm. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor,” said his lordship, after urging several arguments, “you will + oblige Sir Thomas Gourlay very much, by having us married when they come + in. It's only a paltry matter of property, that Sir Thomas acceded to this + morning. Pray, proceed with the ceremony, Doctor, and make two lovers + happy.” + </p> + <p> + “The word of your honorable father,” replied the Doctor, “shall ever be a + law to me. He was always a most hospitable man; and, unless my bishop, or + the chief secretary, or, what is better still, the viceroy himself, I do + not know a nobleman more worthy of respect. No, my lord, there is not in + the peerage a nobleman who—gave better dinners.” + </p> + <p> + What with this effort on the part of Dunroe, and a variety of chat that + took place upon the subject of the interruption, at least five-and-twenty + minutes had elapsed, and the company began to feel somewhat anxious and + impatient, when Sir Thomas Gourlay entered; and, gracious heaven, what a + frightful change had taken place in him! Dismay, despair, wretchedness, + misery, distraction, frenzy, were all struggling for expression in his + countenance. He was followed by Lord Cullamore, who, when about to proceed + home, had changed his mind, and returned for Lady Emily. He advanced, + still supported by Morty, and approaching Lucy, took her hand, and said, + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gourlay, you are saved; and I thank God that I was made the + instrument of rescuing you from wretchedness and despair, for I read both + in your face. And now,” he proceeded, addressing the spectators, “I beg it + to be understood, that in the breaking off of this marriage, there is no + earthly blame, not a shadow of imputation to be attributed to Miss + Gourlay, who is all honor, and delicacy, and truth. Her father, if left to + himself, would not now permit her to become the wife of my son; who, I am + sorry to say, is utterly unworthy of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Attention!” once more was heard from the quarter in which old Sam stood, + as if bearing testimony to the truth of his lordship's assertion. “John,” + said the latter, “you may thank your friend, Mr. Norton, for enabling me, + within the last hour, to save this admirable girl from the ruin which her + union with you would have entailed upon her. You will now know how to + appreciate so faithful and honorable a friend.” + </p> + <p> + All that Dunroe must have felt, may be easily conceived by the reader. The + baronet, however, becomes the foremost figure in the group. The strong, + the cunning, the vehement, the overbearing, the plausible, the + unbelieving, the philosophical, and the cruel—these were the divided + streams, as it were, of his character, which all, however, united to make + up the dark and terrible current of his great ambition; great, however, + only as a passion and a moral impulse of action, but puny, vile, and base + in its true character and elements. Here, then, stood the victim of his + own creed, the baffled antagonist of God's providence, who despised + religion, and trampled upon its obligations; the man who strove to make + himself his own deity, his own priest, and who administered to his guilty + passions on the altar of a hardened and corrupted heart—here he + stood; now, struck, stunned, prostrated; whilst the veil which had + hitherto concealed the hideousness of his principles, was raised up, as if + by an awful hand, that he might know what it is for man to dash himself + against the bosses of the Almighty's buckler. His heart beat, and his + brain throbbed; all presence of mind, almost all consciousness, abandoned + him, and he only felt that the great object of his life was lost—the + great plan, to the completion of which he had devoted all his energies, + was annihilated. He imagined that the apartment was filled with gloom and + fire, and that the faces he saw about him were mocking at him, and + disclosing to each other in whispers the dreadful extent, the unutterable + depth of his despair and misery. He also felt a sickness of heart, that + was in itself difficult to contend with, and a weakness about the knees + that rendered it nearly impossible for him to stand. His head, too, became + light and giddy, and his brain reeled so much that he tottered, and was + obliged to sit, in order to prevent himself from falling. All, however, + was not to end here. This was but the first blow. + </p> + <p> + Lord Cullamore was now about to depart; for he, too, had become + exceedingly weak and exhausted, by the unusual exercise and agitation to + which he had exposed himself. + </p> + <p> + Old Anthony Corbet then stepped forward, and said, + </p> + <p> + “Don't go, my lord. There's strange things to come to light this day and + this hour, for this is the day and this is the hour of my vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you,” replied his lordship; “I was scarcely equal to + the effort of coming here, and I feel myself very feeble.” + </p> + <p> + “Get his lordship some wine,” said the old man, addressing his son. “You + will be good enough to stop, my lord,” he proceeded, “for a short time. + You are a magistrate, and your presence here may be necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” exclaimed his lordship, surprised at such language: “this may be + serious. Proceed, my friend: what disclosures have you to make?” + </p> + <p> + Old Corbet did not answer him, but turning round to the baronet, who was + not then in a capacity to hear or observe anything apart from the terrible + convulsions of agony he was suffering, he looked upon him, his keen old + eyes in a blaze, his lips open and their expression sharpened by the + derisive and satanic triumph that was legible in the demon sneer which + kept them apart. + </p> + <p> + “Thomas Gourlay!” he exclaimed in a sharp, piercing voice of authority and + conscious power, “Thomas Gourlay, rise up and stand forward, your day of + doom is come.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it that has the insolence to call my father Thomas Gourlay under + this roof?” asked his son Thomas, alias Mr. Ambrose Gray. “Begone, old + man, you are mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Bastard and impostor!” readied Anthony, “you appear before your time. + Thomas Gourlay, did you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + By an effort—almost a superhuman effort—the baronet succeeded + in turning his attention to what was going forward. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” he exclaimed; “is this a tumult? Who dares to stir up a + tumult in such a scene as this? Begone!” said he, addressing several + strangers, who appeared to take a deep interest in what was likely to + ensue. The house was his own, and, as a matter of course, every one left + the room with the exception of those immediately connected with both + families, and with the incidents of our story. + </p> + <p> + “Let no one go,” said Anthony, “that I appointed to come here.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Dunroe, after the strangers had gone, and with a look that + indicated his sense of the baronet's duplicity, “is this gentleman your + son?” + </p> + <p> + “My acknowledged son, sir,” replied the other. + </p> + <p> + “And, pray, were you aware of that this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “As clearly and distinctly as you were that you had no earthly claim to + the title which you bear, nor to the property of your father,” replied the + baronet, with a look that matched that of the other. There they stood, + face to face, each detected in his dishonor and iniquity, and on that + account disqualified to recriminate upon each other, for their mutual + perfidy. + </p> + <p> + “Corbet,” said the baronet, now recovering himself, “what is this? Respect + my house and family—respect my guests. Go home; I pardon you this + folly, because I see that you have been too liberal in your potations this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake me, sir,” replied the adroit old man; “I am going to do you a + service. Call forward Thomas Gourlay.” + </p> + <p> + This considerably relieved the baronet, who took it for granted that it + was his son whom he had called in the first instance. + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Lord Cullamore, “is it possible, Sir Thomas, that you + have recovered your lost son?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, my lord,” replied the other. “Thomas, come over till I present you + to my dear friend Lord Cullamore.” + </p> + <p> + Young Gourlay advanced, and the earl was in the act of extending his hand + to him, when old Anthony interposed, by drawing it back. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, my lord,” said he; “that hand is the hand of a man of honor, but + you must not soil it by touchin' that of a bastard and impostor.” + </p> + <p> + “That is my son, my lord,” replied Sir Thomas, “and I acknowledge him as + such.” + </p> + <p> + “So you may, sir,” replied Corbet, “and so you ought; but I say that if he + is your son, he is also my grandson.” + </p> + <p> + “Corbet,” said his lordship, “you had better explain yourself. This, Sir + Thomas, is a matter very disagreeable to me, and which I should not wish + even to hear; but as it is possible that the interests of my dear friend + here. Lady Gourlay, may be involved in it, I think it my duty not to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship's interests are involved in it, my lord,” replied Corbet; + “and you are right to stay, if it was only for her sake. Now, my lady,” he + added, addressing her, “I see how you are sufferin', but I ask it as a + favor that you will keep yourself quiet, and let me go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Proceed, then,” said Lord Cullamore; “and do you, Lady Gourlay, restrain + your emotion, if you can.” + </p> + <p> + “Thomas Gourlay—I spake now to the father, my lord,” said Corbet. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Thomas Gourlay, sir!” said the baronet, haughtily and indignantly, + “Sir Thomas Gourlay!” + </p> + <p> + “Thomas Gourlay,” persisted Corbet, “it is now nineteen years, or + thereabouts, since you engaged me, myself—I am the man—to take + away the son of your brother, and you know the ordhers you gave me. I did + so: I got a mask, and took him away with me on the pretence of bringin' + him to see a puppet-show. Well, he disappeared, and your mind, I suppose, + was aisy. I tould you all was right, and every year from that to this you + have paid me a pension of fifty pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “The man is mad, my lord,” said Sir Thomas; “and, under all circumstances, + he makes himself out a villain.” + </p> + <p> + “I can perceive no evidence of madness, so far,” replied his lordship; + “proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “None but a villain would have served your purposes; but if I was a + villain, it wasn't to bear out your wishes, but to satisfy my own + revenge.” + </p> + <p> + “But what cause for revenge could you have had against him?” asked, his + lordship. + </p> + <p> + “What cause?” exclaimed the old man, whilst his countenance grew dark as + night, “what cause against the villain that seduced my daughter—that + brought disgrace and shame upon my family—that broke through the + ties of nature, which are always held sacred in our country, for she was + his own foster-sister, my lord, suckled at the same breasts, nursed in the + same arms, and fed and clothed and nourished by the same hand;—yes, + my lord, that brought shame and disgrace and madness, my lord—ay, + madness upon my child, that he deceived and corrupted, under a solemn oath + of marriage. Do you begin to undherstand me now, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + His lordship made no reply, but kept his eyes intently fixed upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lord, soon after the disappearance of Lady Gourlay's child, his + own went in the same way; and no search, no hunt, no attempt to get him + ever succeeded. He, any more than the other, could not be got. My lord, it + was I removed him. I saw far before me, and it was I removed him; yes, + Thomas Gourlay, it was I left you childless—at least of a son.” + </p> + <p> + “You must yourself see, my lord,” said the baronet, “that—that—when + is this marriage to take place?—what is this?—I am quite + confused; let me see, let me see—yes, he is such a villain, my lord, + that you must perceive he is entitled to no credit—to none + whatsoever.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lord,” proceeded Corbet. + </p> + <p> + “I think, my lord,” said Thomas Corbet, stepping forward, “that I ought to + acquaint your lordship with my father's infirmity. Of late, my lord, he + has been occasionally unsettled in his senses. I can prove this on oath.” + </p> + <p> + “And if what he states be true,” replied his lordship, “I am not surprised + at it; it is only right we should hear him, however, as I have already + said, I can perceive no traces of insanity about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my lord,” replied the old man, “it would be well for him if he could + prove me mad, for then his nephew, the bastard, might have a chance of + succeeding to the Gourlay title, and the estates. But I must go on. Well, + my lord, after ten years or so, I came one day to Mr. Gourlay—he was + then called Sir Thomas—and I tould him that I had relented, and + couldn't do with his brother's son as I had promised, and as he wished me. + 'He is living,' said I, 'and I wish you would take him undher your own + care.' I won't wait to tell you the abuse I got from him for not + fulfillin' his wishes; but he felt he was in my power, and was forced to + continue my pension and keep himself quiet. Well, my lord, I brought him + the boy one night, undher the clouds of darkness, and we conveyed him to a + lunatic asylum.” + </p> + <p> + Here he was interrupted by something between a groan and a scream from + Lady Gourlay, who, however, endeavored immediately to restrain her + feelings. + </p> + <p> + “From that day to this, my lord, the cruelty he received, sometimes in one + madhouse and sometimes in another, sometimes in England and sometimes in + Ireland, it would be terrible to know. Everything that could wear away + life was attempted, and the instruments in that black villain's hands were + well paid for their cruelty. At length, my lord, he escaped, and wandhered + about till he settled down in the town of Ballytrain. Thomas Gourlay—then + Sir Thomas—had been away with his family for two or three years in + foreign parts, but when he went to his seat, Red Hall, near that town, he + wasn't long there till he found out that the young man named Fenton—something + unsettled, they said, in his mind—was his brother's son, for the + baronet had been informed of his escape. Well, he got him once more into + his clutches, and in the dead hour of night, himself—you there, + Thomas Gourlay—one of your villain servants, by name Gillespie, and + my own son—you that stand there, Thomas Corbet—afther making + the poor boy dead drunk, brought him off to one of the mad-houses that he + had been in before. He, Mr. Gourlay, then—or Sir Thomas, if you like—went + with them a part of the way. Providence, my lord, is never asleep, + however. The keeper of the last mad-house was more of a devil than a man. + The letter of the baronet was written to the man that had been there + before him, but he was dead, and this villain took the boy and the money + that had been sent with him, and there he suffered what I am afraid he + will never get the betther of.” + </p> + <p> + “But what became of Sir Thomas Gourlay's son?” asked his lordship; “and + where now is Lady Gourlay's?” + </p> + <p> + “They are both in this room, my lord. Now, Thomas Gourlay, I will restore + your son to you. Advance, Black Baronet,” said the old man, walking over + to Fenton, with a condensed tone of vengeance and triumph in his voice and + features, that filled all present with awe. “Come, now, and look upon your + own work—think, if it will comfort you, upon what you made your own + flesh and blood suffer. There he is, Black Baronet; there is your son—dead!” + </p> + <p> + A sudden murmur and agitation took place as he pointed to Fenton; but + there was now something of command, nay, absolutely of grandeur, in his + revenge, as well as in his whole manner. + </p> + <p> + “Keep quiet, all of you,” he exclaimed, raising his arm with a spirit of + authority and power; “keep quiet, I say, and don't disturb the dead. I am + not done.” + </p> + <p> + “I must interrupt you a moment,” said Lord Dunroe. “I thought the person—the + unfortunate young man here—was the son of Sir Thomas's brother?” + </p> + <p> + “And so did he,” replied Corbet; “but I will make the whole thing simple + at wanst. When he was big enough to be grown out of his father's + recollection, I brought back his own son to him as the son of his brother. + And while the black villain was huggin' himself with delight that all the + sufferings, and tortures, and hellish scourgings, and chains, and cells, + and darkness, and damp, and cruelty of all shapes, were breakin' down the + son of his brother to death—the heir that stood between himself and + his unlawful title, and his unlawful property—instead of that, they + were all inflicted upon his own lawfully begotten son, who now lies there—dead!” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with Sir Thomas Gourlay?” said his lordship; “what is + wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas's conduct, whilst old Corbet was proceeding to detail these + frightful and harrowing developments, gave once or twice strong symptoms + of incoherency, more, indeed, by his action than his language. He seized, + for instance, the person next him, unfortunate Dr. Sombre, and after + squeezing his arm until it became too painful to bear, he ground his + teeth, looked into his face, and asked, “Do you think—would you + swear—that—that—ay—that there is a God?” Then, + looking at Corbet, and trying to recollect himself, he exclaimed, + “Villain, demon, devil;” and he then struck or rather throttled the + Doctor, as he sat beside him. They succeeded, however, in composing him, + but his eyes were expressive of such wildness and horror and blood-shot + frenzy, that one or two of them sat close to him, for the purpose of + restraining his tendency to violence. + </p> + <p> + Lady Gourlay, on hearing that Fenton was not her son, wept bitterly, + exclaiming, “Alas! I am twice made childless.” But Lucy, who had awakened + out of the deathlike stupor of misery which had oppressed her all the + morning, now became conscious of the terrible disclosures which old Corbet + was making; and on hearing that Fenton was, or rather had been, her + brother, she flew to him, and on looking at his pale, handsome, but + lifeless features, she threw her arms around him, kissed his lips in an + agony of sorrow, and exclaimed, “And is it thus we meet, my brother! No + word to recognize your sister? No glance of that eye, that is closed + forever, to welcome me to your heart? Oh! miserable fate, my brother! We + meet in death. You are now with our mother; and Lucy, your sister, whom + you never saw, will soon join you. You are gone! Your wearied and broken + spirit fled from disgrace and sorrow. Yes; I shall soon meet you, where + your lips will not be passive to the embraces of a sister, and where your + eyes will not be closed against those looks of affection and tenderness + which she was prepared to give you, but which you could not receive. Ah, + here there is no repugnance of the heart, as there was in the other + instance. Here are my blessed mother's features; and nature tells me that + you are—oh, distressing sight!—that you were my brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep silence,” exclaimed Corbet, “you must hear me out. Thomas Gourlay, + there lies your son; I don't know what you may feel now that you know he's + your own—and well you know it;—but I know his sufferings gave + you very little trouble so long as you thought that he was the child of + the widow of your brother that was dead. Well now, my lord,” he proceeded, + “you might think I've had very good revenge upon Thomas Gourlay; but + there's more to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Attention!” from old Sam, in a voice that startled almost every one + present. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord, I must fulfil my work. Stand forward, Sir Edward Gourlay. + Stand forward, and go to your affectionate mother's arms.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear the old man is unsettled, certainly,” said his lordship. “Sir + Edward Gourlay!—there is no Sir Edward Gourlay here.” + </p> + <p> + “Attention, Ned!” exclaimed old Sam, again taking the head of his cane out + of his mouth, where it had got a merciless mumbling for some time past. + “Attention, Ned! you're called, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + Old Corbet went over to Ensign Roberts, and taking him by the hand, led + him to Lady Gourlay, exclaiming, “There, my lady, is your son, and proud + you may be out of him. There is the real heir of the Gourlay name and the + Gourlay property. Look at him and his cousin, your niece, and see how they + resemble one another. Look at his father's features in his face; but I + have plenty of proof, full satisfaction to give you besides.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Gourlay became pale as death. “Mysterious and just Providence,” she + exclaimed, “can this be true? But it is—it must—there are the + features of his departed father—his figure—his every look. He + is mine!—he is mine! My heart recognizes him. Oh, my son!—my + child!—are you at length restored to me?” + </p> + <p> + Young Roberts was all amazement. Whilst Lady Gourlay spoke, he looked over + at old Sam, whose son he actually believed himself to be (for the fine old + fellow had benevolently imposed on him), and seemed anxious to know what + this new parentage, now ascribed to him, could mean. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Ned! Corbet is good authority: but although I knew you were + not mine, I could never squeeze the truth out of him as to who your father + was. It's true, in spite of all he said, I had suspicions; but what could + I do?—-I could prove nothing.” + </p> + <p> + We will not describe this restoration of the widow's son. Our readers can + easily conceive it, and, accordingly, to their imagination we will leave + it. + </p> + <p> + It was attended, however, by an incident which we cannot pass over without + some notice. Lady Emily, on witnessing the extraordinary turn which had so + providentially taken place in the fate and fortune of her lover, was + observed by Mrs. Mainwaring to grow very pale. A consciousness of injury, + which our readers will presently understand, prevented her from offering + assistance, but running over to Lucy, she said, “I fear, Miss Gourlay, + that Lady Emily is ill.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, who was all tenderness, left her brother, over whom she had been + weeping, and flew to her assistance just in time to prevent her from + falling off her chair. She had swooned. Water, however, and essences, and + other appliances, soon restored her; and on recovering she cast her eyes + about the room as if to search for some one. Lady Gourlay had her arm + round her, and was chafing her temples at the time. Those lovely fawn-like + eyes of hers had not far to search. Roberts, now young Sir Edward Gourlay, + had been standing near, contemplating her beautiful features, and deeply + alarmed by her illness, when their eyes met; and, to the surprise of Lucy + Gourlay, a blush so modest, so beautiful, so exquisite, but yet so legible + in its expression, took place of the paleness which had been there before. + She looked up, saw the direction of her son's eyes, then looked + significantly at Lucy, and smiled. The tell-tale blush, in fact, + discovered the state of their hearts, and never was a history of pure and + innocent love more appropriately or beautifully told. + </p> + <p> + This significant little episode did not last long; and when Lady Emily + found herself recovered, Thomas Corbet advanced, and said: “I don't know + what you mean, father, by saying that the young man who has just died was + Sir Thomas Gourlay's son. You know in your heart that this”—pointing + to his nephew—“is his true and legitimate heir. You know, too, that + his illegitimate son has been dead for years, and that I myself saw him + buried.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, pay attention to what I'll speak,” said his father. “If the + bastard died, and if my son was at his burial, and saw him laid in the + grave, he can tell us where that grave is to be found, at least. His + father, however, will remember the tattooing.” + </p> + <p> + The unexpected nature of the question, and its direct bearing upon the + circumstance before them, baffled Thomas Corbet, who left the room, + affecting to be too indignant to reply. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” proceeded his father, “he knows he has stated a falsehood. I have + proof for every word I said, and for every circumstance. There's a paper,” + he added, “a pound note, that will prove one link in the chain, for the + very person's name that is written on it by the poor young man himself, I + have here. He can prove the mark on his neck, when in outlier despair, the + poor creature made an attempt on his own life with a piece of glass. And + what is more, I have the very clothes they both wore when I took them + away. In short, I have everything full and clear; but I did not let either + my son or daughter know of my exchangin' the childre', and palmin' Thomas + Gourlay's own son on him as the son of his brother. That saicret I kept to + myself, knowin' that I couldn't trust them. And now, Thomas Gourlay,” he + said, “my revenge is complete. There you stand, a guilty and a disgraced + man; and with all your wisdom, and wealth, and power, what were you but a + mere tool and puppet in my hands up to this hour? There you stand, without + a house that you can call your own—stripped of your false title—of + your false property—but not altogether of your false character, for + the world knew pretty well what that was.” + </p> + <p> + Corbet's daughter then came forward, and laying her hand on the baronet's + shoulder, said, “Do you know me, Thomas Gourlay?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the other, looking at her with fury; “you are a spectre; I + have seen you before; you appeared to me once, and your words were false. + Begone, you are a spectre—a spirit of evil.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the spirit of death to you,” she replied; “but my prophetic + announcement was true. I called you Thomas Gourlay then, and I call you + Thomas Gourlay now—for such is your name; and your false title is + gone. That young man there, named after you, is my son, and you are his + father—for I am Jacinta Corbet: so far my father's words are true; + and if it were not for his revenge, my son would have inherited your name, + title, and property. Here now I stand the victim of your treachery and + falsehood, which for years have driven me mad. But now the spirit of the + future is upon me; and I tell you, that I read frenzy, madness, and death + in your face. You have been guilty of great crimes, but you will be + guiltier of a greater and a darker still. I read that in your coward + spirit, for I know you well. I also am revenged, but I have been punished; + and my own sufferings have taught me to feel that I am still a woman. I + loved you once—I hated you long; but now I pity you. Yes, Thomas + Gourlay, she whom you drove to madness, and imposture, and misery, for + long years, can now look down upon you with pity!” + </p> + <p> + Having thus spoken, she left the room. + </p> + <p> + We may add here, in a few brief words, that the proof of the identity of + each of the two individuals in question was clearly, legally, and most + satisfactorily established; in addition to which, if farther certainty had + been wanting, Lady Gourlay at once knew her son by a very peculiar mole on + his neck, of a three-cornered shape, resembling a triangle. + </p> + <p> + The important events of the day, so deeply affecting Sir Thomas Gourlay + and his family, had been now brought to a close; all the strangers + withdrew, and Fenton's body was brought up stairs and laid out. Lady Emily + and her father went home together; so did Roberts, now Sir Edward Gourlay, + and his delighted and thankful mother. Her confidence in the providence of + God was at length amply rewarded, and the widow's heart at last was indeed + made to sing for joy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ned, my boy,” said old Sam, turning to Sir Edward, after having + been introduced to his mother, “I hope I haven't lost a son to-day, + although your mother gained one?” + </p> + <p> + “I would be unworthy of my good fortune, if you did,” replied Sir Edward. + “Whilst I have life and sense and memory I shall ever look upon you as my + father, and my best friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight,” replied the old soldier; “but I knew it was before you. He was no + everyday plant, my lady, and so I told my Beck. Your ladyship must see my + Beck,” he added; “she's the queen of wives, and I knew it from the first + day I married her; my heart told me so, and it was all right—all the + heart of man.” + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate old Doctor was to be pitied. He walked about with his + finger in his book, scarcely knowing whether what he had seen and heard + was a dream, or a reality. Seeing Lord Dunroe about to take his departure, + he approached him, and said, “Pray, sir, are we to have no dejeuner after + all? Are not you the young gentleman who was this day found out—discovered?” + </p> + <p> + Dunroe was either so completely absorbed in the contemplation of his ill + fortune, that he did not hear him, or he would not deign him an answer. + </p> + <p> + “This is really too bad,” continued the Doctor; “neither a marriage fee + nor a dejeuner! Too bad, indeed! Here are the tribulations, but not the + marriage; under which melancholy circumstances I may as well go on my way, + although I cannot do it as I expected to have done—rejoicing. Good + morning, Mr. Stoker.” + </p> + <p> + Our readers ought to be sufficiently acquainted, we presume, with the + state of Lucy's feelings after the events of the day and the disclosures + that had been made. Sir Thomas Gourlay—we may as well call him so + for the short time he will be on the stage—stunned—crushed—wrecked— + ruined, was instantly obliged to go to bed. The shock sustained by his + system, both physically and mentally, was terrific in its character, and + fearful in its results. His incoherency almost amounted to frenzy. He + raved—he stormed—he cursed—he blasphemed; but amidst + this dark tumult of thought and passion, there might ever be observed the + prevalence of the monster evil—the failure of his ambition for his + daughter's elevation to the rank of a countess. Never, indeed, was there + such a tempest of human passion at work in a brain as raged in his. + </p> + <p> + “It's a falsehood, I didn't murder my son,” he raved; “or if I did, what + care I about that? I am a man of steel. My daughter—my daughter was + my thought. Well, Dunroe, all is right at last—eh? ha—ha—ha! + I managed it; but I knew my system was the right one. Lady Dunroe!—very + good, very good to begin with; but not what I wish to see, to hear, to + feel before I die. Nurse me, now, if I died without seeing her Countess of + Cullamore, but I'd break my heart. 'Make way, there—way for the + Countess of Cullamore!'—ha! does not that sound well? But then, the + old Earl! Curse him, what keeps him on the stage so long? Away with the + old carrion!—away with him! But what was that that happened to-day, + or yesterday? Misery, torture, perdition!—disgraced, undone, ruined! + Is it true, though? Is this joy? I expected—I feared something like + this. Will no one tell me what has happened? Here, Lucy—Countess of + Cullamore!—where are you? Now, Lucy, now—put your heel on them—grind + them, my girl—remember the cold and distrustful looks your father + got from the world—especially from those of your own sex—remember + it all, now, Lucy—Countess of Cullamore, I mean—remember it, I + say, my lady, for your father's sake. Now, my girl, for pride; now for the + haughty sneer; now for the aristocratic air of disdain; now for the day of + triumph over the mob of the great vulgar. And that fellow—that + reverend old shark who would eat any one of his Christian brethren, if + they were only sent up to him disguised as a turbot—the divine old + lobster, for his thin red nose is a perfect claw—the divine old + lobster couldn't tell me whether there was a God or not. Curse him, not + he; but hold, I must not be too severe upon him: his god is his belly, and + mine was my ambition. Oh, oh! what is this—what does it all mean? + What has happened to me? Oh, I am ill, I fear: perhaps I am mad. Is the + Countess there—the Countess of Cullamore, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + Many of his subsequent incoherencies were still more violent and + appalling, and sometimes he would have got up and committed acts of + outrage, if he had not been closely watched and restrained by force. + Whether his complaint was insanity or brain fever, or the one as + symptomatic of the other, even his medical attendants could scarcely + determine. At all events, whatever medical skill and domestic attention + could do for him was done, but with very little hopes of success. + </p> + <p> + The effect of the scene which the worn and invalid Earl had witnessed at + Sir Thomas Gourlay's were so exhausting to his weak frame that they left + very little strength behind them. Yet he complained of no particular + illness; all he felt was, an easy but general and certain decay of his + physical powers, leaving the mind and intellect strong and clear. On the + day following the scene in the baronet's house, we must present him to the + reader seated, as usual—for he could not be prevailed upon to keep + his bed—in his arm-chair, with the papers of the day before him. + Near him, on another seat, was Sir Edward Gourlay. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir Edward, the proofs, you say, have been all satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly so, my lord,” replied the young baronet; “we did not allow + yesterday to close without making everything clear. We have this morning + had counsel's opinion upon it, and the proof is considered decisive.” + </p> + <p> + “But is Lady Emily herself aware of your attachment?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my lord,” replied Sir Edward, blushing a little, “I may say I think + that—ahem!—she has, in some sort, given—a—ahem!—a + kind of consent that I should speak to your lordship on the subject.' + </p> + <p> + “My dear young friend,” said his lordship, whose voice became tremulous, + and whose face grew like the whitest ashes. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got ill, my lord?” asked Sir Edward, a good deal alarmed: “shall + I ring for assistance?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied his lordship; “no; I only wish to say that you know not the + extent of your own generosity in making this proposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Generosity, my lord! Your lordship will pardon me. In this case I have + all the honor to receive, and nothing to confer in exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear me for a few minutes,” replied his lordship, “and after you shall + have heard me, you will then be able at least to understand whether the + proposal you make for my daughter's hand is a generous one or not. My + daughter, Sir Edward, is illegitimate.” + </p> + <p> + “Illegitimate, my lord!” replied the other, with an evident shock which he + could not conceal. “Great God! my lord, your words are impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “My young friend, they are both possible and true. Listen to me: + </p> + <p> + “In early life I loved a young lady of a decayed but respectable family. I + communicated our attachment to my friends, who pronounced me a fool, and + did not hesitate to attribute my affection for her to art on the part of + the lady, and intrigue on that of her relatives. I was at the time deeply, + almost irretrievably, embarrassed. Be this as it may, I knew that the + imputations against Maria, for such was her name, as well as against her + relatives, were utterly false; and as a proof I did so, I followed her to + France, where, indeed, I had first met her. Well, we were privately + married there; for, although young at the time, I was not without a spirit + of false pride and ambition, that tended to prevent me from acknowledging + my marriage, and encountering boldly, as I ought to have done, the + resentment of my relations and the sneers of the world. Owing to this + unmanly spirit on my part, our marriage, though strictly correct and legal + in every respect, was nevertheless a private one, as I have said. In the + meantime I had entered parliament, and it is not for me to dwell upon the + popularity with which my efforts there were attended. I consequently lived + a good deal apart from my wife, whom I had not courage to present as such + to the world. Every day now established my success in the House of + Commons, and increased my ambition. The constitution of my wife had been + naturally a delicate one, and I understood, subsequently to our union, + that there had been decline in her family to such an extent, that nearly + one-half of them had died of it. In this way we lived for four years, + having no issue. About the commencement of the fifth my wife's health + began to decline, and as that session of parliament was a very busy and a + very important one, I was but little with her. Ever since the period of + our marriage, she had been attended by a faithful maid, indeed, rather a + companion, well educated and accomplished, named Norton, subsequently + married to a cousin of her own name. After a short visit to my wife, in + whose constitution decline had now set in, and whom I ought not to have + left, I returned to parliament, more than ever ambitious for distinction. + I must do myself the justice to say that I loved her tenderly; but at the + same time I felt disappointed at not having a family. On returning to + London I found that my brother, who had opposed all notion of my marriage + with peculiar bitterness, and never spoke of my wife with respect, was + himself about to be married to one of the most fascinating creatures on + whom my eyes ever rested; and, what was equally agreeable, she had an + immense fortune in her own right, and was, besides, of a high and + distinguished family. She was beautiful, she was rich—she was, alas! + ambitious. Well, we met, we conversed, we compared minds with each other; + we sang together, we danced together, until at length we began to feel + that the absence of the one caused an unusual depression in the other. I + was said to be one of the most eloquent commoners of the day—her + family were powerful—my wife was in a decline, and recovery + hopeless. Here, then, was a career for ambition; but that was not all. I + was poor—embarrassed almost beyond hope—on the very verge of + ruin. Indeed, so poor, that it was as much owing to the inability of + maintaining my wife in her proper rank, as to fear of my friends and the + world, that I did not publicly acknowledge her. But why dwell on this? I + loved the woman whose heart and thought had belonged to my brother—loved + her to madness; and soon perceived that the passion was mutual. I had not, + however, breathed a syllable of love, nor was it ever my intention to do + so. My brother, however, was gradually thrown off, treated with coldness, + and ultimately with disdain, while no one suspected the cause. It is + painful to dwell upon subsequent occurrences. My brother grew jealous, + and, being a high-spirited young man, released Lady Emily from her + engagement. I was mad with love; and this conduct, honorable and manly as + it was in him, occasioned an explanation between me and Lady Emily, in + which, weak and vacillating as I was, in the frenzy of the moment I + disclosed, avowed my passion, and—but why proceed? We loved each + other, not 'wisely, but too well.' My brother sought and obtained a + foreign lucrative appointment, and left the country in a state of mind + which it is very difficult to describe. He refused to see me on his + departure, and I have never seen him since. + </p> + <p> + “The human heart, my young friend, is a great mystery. I now attached + myself to Lady Emily, and was about to disclose my marriage to her; but as + the state of my wife's health was hopeless, I declined to do so, in the + expectation that a little time might set me free. My wife was then living + in a remote little village in the south of France; most of her relatives + were dead, and those who survived were at the time living in a part of + Connaught, Galway, to which any kind of intelligence, much less foreign, + seldom ever made its way. Now, I do not want to justify myself, because I + cannot do so. I said this moment that the human heart is a great mystery. + So it is. Whilst my passion for Lady Emily was literally beyond all + restraint, I nevertheless felt visitations of remorse that were terrible. + The image of my gentle Maria, sweet, contented, affectionate, and + uncomplaining, would sometimes come before me, and—pardon me, my + friend; I am very weak, but I will resume in a few moments. Well, the + struggle within me was great. I had a young duke as a rival; but I was not + only a rising man, but actually had a party in the House of Commons. Her + family, high and ambitious, were anxious to procure my political support, + and held out the prospect of a peerage. My wife was dying; I loved Lady + Emily; I was without offspring; I was poor; I was ambitious. She was + beautiful, of high family and powerful connections; she was immensely + rich, too, highly accomplished, and enthusiastically attached to me. These + were temptations. + </p> + <p> + “At this period it so fell out that a sister of my wife's became governess + in Lady Emily's family; but the latter were ignorant of the connection. + This alarmed me, frightened me; for I feared she would disclose my + marriage. I lost no time in bringing about a private interview with her, + in which I entreated her to keep the matter secret, stating that a short + time would enable me to bring her sister with eclat into public life. I + also prevailed upon her to give up her situation, and furnished her with + money for Maria, to whom I sent her, with an assurance that my house + should ever be her home, and that it was contrary to my wishes ever to + hear my wife's sister becoming a governess; and this indeed was true. I + also wrote to my wife, to the effect that the pressure of my parliamentary + duties would prevent me from seeing her for a couple of months. + </p> + <p> + “In this position matters were for about a fortnight or three weeks, when, + at last, a letter reached me from my sister-in-law, giving a detailed + account of my wife's death, and stating that she and Miss Norton were + about to make a tour to Italy, for the purpose of acquiring the language. + This letter was a diabolical falsehood, Sir Edward; but it accomplished + its purpose. She had gleaned enough of intelligence in the family, by + observation and otherwise, to believe that my wife's death alone would + enable me, in a short time, to become united to Lady Emily; and that if my + marriage with her took place whilst her sister lived, I believing her to + be dead, she would punish me for what she considered my neglect of her, + and my unjustifiable attachment to another woman during Maria's life. All + communication ceased between us. My wife was unable to write; but from + what her sister stated to her, probably with exaggerations, her pride + prevented her from holding any correspondence with a husband who refused + to acknowledge his marriage with her, and whose affections had been + transferred to another. At all events, the blow took effect. Believing her + dead, and deeming myself at liberty, I married Lady Emily, after a lapse + of six months, exactly as many weeks before the death of my first wife. Of + course you perceive now, my friend, that my last marriage was null and + void; and that, hurried on by the eager impulses of love and ambition, I + did, without knowing it, an act which has made my children illegitimate. + It is true, my union with Lady Emily was productive to me of great + results. I was created an Irish peer, in consequence of the support I gave + to my wife's connections. The next step was an earldom, with an English + peerage, together with such an accession of property in right of my wife, + as made me rich beyond my wishes. So far, you may say, I was a successful + man; but the world cannot judge of the heart, and its recollections. My + second wife was a virtuous woman, high, haughty, and correct; but + notwithstanding our early enthusiastic affection, the experiences of + domestic life soon taught us to feel, that, after all, our dispositions + and tastes were unsuitable. She was fond of show, of equipage, of + fashionable amusements, and that empty dissipation which constitutes, the + substance of aristocratic existence. I, on the contrary, when not engaged + in public life, with which I soon grew fatigued, was devoted to + retirement, to domestic enjoyment, and to the duties which devolved upon + me as a parent. I loved my children with the greatest tenderness, and + applied myself to the cultivation of their principles, and the progress of + their education. All, however, would not do. I was unhappy; unhappy, not + only in my present wife, but in the recollection of the gentle and + affectionate Maria. I now felt the full enormity of my crime against that + patient and angelic being. Her memory began to haunt me—her virtues + were ever in my thoughts; her quiet, uncomplaining submission, her love, + devotion, tenderness, all rose up in fearful array against me, until I + felt that the abiding principle of my existence was a deep remorse, that + ate its way into my happiness day by day, and has never left me through my + whole subsequent life. This, however, was attended with some good, as it + recalled me, in an especial manner, to the nobler duties of humanity. I + felt now that truth, and a high sense of honor, could alone enable me to + redeem the past, and atone for my conduct with respect to Maria. But, + above all, I felt that independence of mind, self-restraint, and firmness + of character, were virtues, principles, what you will, without which man + is but a cipher, a tool of others, or the sport of circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “My second wife died of a cold, caught by going rather thinly dressed to a + fashionable party too soon after the birth of Emily; and my son, having + become the pet and spoiled child of his mother and her relatives, soon + became imbued with fashionable follies, which, despite of all my care and + vigilance, I am grieved to say, have degenerated into worse and more + indefensible principles. He had not reached the period of manhood when he + altogether threw off all regard for my control over him as a father, and + led a life since of which the less that is said the better. + </p> + <p> + “The facts connected with my second marriage have been so clearly + established that defence is hopeless. The registry of our marriage, and of + my first wife's death, have been laid before me, and Mrs. Mainwaring, + herself, was ready to substantiate and prove them by her personal + testimony. My own counsel, able and eminent men as they are, have + dissuaded me from bringing the matter to a trial, and thus making public + the disgrace which must attach to my children. You now understand, Sir + Edward, the full extent of your generosity in proposing for my daughter's + hand, and you also understand the nature of my private communication + yesterday with your uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord, how did your brother become aware of the circumstances you + have just mentioned?” + </p> + <p> + “Through Mrs. Mainwaring, who thought it unjust that a profligate should + inherit so much property, with so bad a title to it, whilst there were + virtuous and honorable men to claim it justly; such are the words of a + note on the subject which I have received from her this very morning. Thus + it is that vice often punishes itself. Now, Sir Edward, I am ready to hear + you.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” replied Sir Edward, “the case is so peculiar, so completely out + of the common course, that, morally speaking, I cannot look upon your + children as illegitimate. I have besides great doubts whether the + prejudice of the world, or its pride, which visits upon the head of the + innocent child the error, or crime if you will, of the guilty parent, + ought to be admitted as a principle of action in life.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the earl; “but on the other hand, to forbid it altogether + might tend to relax some of the best principles in man and woman. Vice + must frequently be followed up for punishment even to its consequences as + well as its immediate acts, otherwise virtue were little better than a + name. For this, however, there is a remedy—an act of parliament must + be procured to legitimatize my children. I shall take care of that, + although I may not live to see it,” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This was done, and the circumstance is still remembered by + many persons in the north of Ireland. +</pre> + <p> + “Be that as it may, my lord, I cannot but think that in the eye of + religion and morality your children are certainly legitimate; all that is + against them being a point of law. For my part, I earnestly beg to renew + my proposal for the hand of Lady Emily.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Sir Edward, you do not feel yourself deterred by anything I have + stated?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I love Lady Emily for her own sake—and for her own sake + only.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” replied her father, “bring her here. I feel very weak—I am + getting heavy. Yesterday's disclosures gave me a shock which I fear will—but + I trust I am prepared—go—remember, however, that my darling + child knows nothing of what I have mentioned to you—Dunroe does. I + had not courage to tell her that she has been placed by her father's + pride, by his ambition, and by his want of moral restraint, out of the + pale of life. Go, and fetch her here.” + </p> + <p> + That they approached him with exulting hearts—that he joined their + hands, and blessed them—is all that is necessary to be mentioned + now. + </p> + <p> + In the course of that evening, a reverend dignitary of the church, Dean + Palmer, whom we have mentioned occasionally in this narrative, and a very + different man indeed from our friend Dr. Sombre, called at Sir Thomas + Goulray's to inquire after his health, and to see Miss Gourlay. He was + shown up to the drawing room, where Lucy, very weak, but still relieved + from the great evil which she had dreaded so much, soon joined him. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gourlay,” said he, “I trust your father is better?” + </p> + <p> + “He is better, sir, in mere bodily health. The cupping, and blistering, + and loss of blood from the arms, have relieved him, and his delirium has + nearly passed away; but, then, he is silent and gloomy, and depressed, it + would seem, beyond the reach of hope or consolation.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he would see me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, he would not,” she replied. “Two or three clergymen have called + for that purpose; but the very mention of them threw him into a state + almost bordering on frenzy.” + </p> + <p> + “Under these circumstances,” replied the good Dean, “it would be wrong to + press him. When he has somewhat recovered, I hope he may be prevailed on + to raise his thoughts to a better life than this. And now, my dear young + lady, I have a favor to request at your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “At mine, sir! If there is any thing within my power—” + </p> + <p> + “This is, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, what is it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you so far oblige me as to receive a visit from Lord Dunroe?” + </p> + <p> + “In any other thing within the limits of my power, sir—in anything + that ought to be asked of me—I would feel great pleasure in obliging + you; but in this you must excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw Lord Cullamore in the early part of the day,” replied Dean Palmer, + “and he told me to say, that it was his wish you should see him; he added, + that he felt it was a last request.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall see him,” replied the generous girl, “instantly; for his + lordship's sake I shall see him, although I cannot conceive for what + purpose Lord Dunroe can wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is sufficient, Miss Gourlay, that you consent to see him. He is below + in my carriage; shall I bring him up?” + </p> + <p> + “Do so, sir. I am going to prevail, if I can, on papa, to take a composing + draught, which the doctors have ordered him. I shall return again in a few + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thomas Gourlay had got up some hours before, and was seated in an + armchair as she entered. + </p> + <p> + “How do you feel now, papa?” she asked, with the utmost affection and + tenderness; “oh, do not be depressed; through all changes of life your + Lucy's affections will be with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” said he, “come and kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + In a moment her arms were about his neck, and she whispered encouragingly, + whilst caressing him, “Papa, now that I have not been thrust down that + fearful abyss, believe me, we shall be very happy yet.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a long look; then shook his head, but did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Endeavor to keep up your spirits, dearest papa; you seem depressed, but + that is natural after what you have suffered. Will you take the composing + draught? It will relieve you.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it will, but I cannot take it from your hand; and he kept his + eyes fixed upon her with a melancholy gaze as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “And why not from mine, papa? Surely you would not change your mind now. + You have taken all your medicine from me, up to this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take it myself, presently, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you promise me, papa?” she said, endeavoring to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lucy, I promise you.” + </p> + <p> + “But, papa, I had forgotten to say that Lord Dunroe has called to ask an + interview with me. He and Dean Palmer are now in the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen him?” asked her father. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Cullamore sent the Dean to me to say, that it was his earnest + request I should—his last.” + </p> + <p> + “His last! Lucy. Well, then, see him—there is a great deal due to a + last request.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I shall see him. Well, good-by, papa. Remember now that you take + the composing draught; I shall return to you after I have seen Lord + Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + She was closing the door, when he recalled her. “Lucy,” said he, “come + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, papa; well, dearest papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me again,” said he. + </p> + <p> + She stooped as before, and putting her arms about his neck, kissed him + like a child. He took her hand in his, and looked on her with the same + long earnest look, and putting it to his lips, kissed it; and as he did, + Lucy felt a tear fall upon it. “Lucy,” said he, “I have one word to say to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was already in tears; that one little drop—the symptom of an + emotion she had never witnessed before—and she trusted the + forerunner of a softened and repentant heart, had already melted hers. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” he said, “forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + The floodgates of her heart and of her eyes were opened at once. She threw + herself on his bosom; she kissed him, and wept long and loudly. + </p> + <p> + He, in the meantime, had regained the dread composure, that death-like + calmness, into which he had passed from his frenzy. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive you, papa? I do—I do, a thousand times; but I have nothing + to forgive. Do I not know that all your plans and purposes were for my + advancement, and, as you hoped, for my happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” said he, “disgrace is hard to bear; but still I would have borne + it had my great object in that advancement been accomplished; but now, + here is the disgrace, yet the object lost forever. Then, my son, Lucy—I + am his murderer; but I knew it not; and even that I could get over; but + you, that is what prostrates me. And, again, to have been the puppet of + that old villain! Even that, however, I could bear; yes, everything but + you!—that was the great cast on which my whole heart was set; but + now, mocked, despised, detested, baffled, detected, defeated. However, it + is all over, like a troubled dream. Dry your eyes now,” he added, “and see + Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you wish to see Dean Palmer, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Lucy; not at all; he could do me no good. Go, now, and see + Dunroe, and do not let me be disturbed for an hour or two. You know I have + seen the body of my son to-day, and I wish I had not.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you did, papa; it has depressed you very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Go, Lucy, go. In a couple of hours I—Go, dear; don't keep his + lordship waiting.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Lucy's heart was in a tumult of delight as she went down stairs. In + the whole course of her life she had never witnessed in her father + anything of tender emotion until then, and the tear that fell upon her + hand she knew was the only one she ever saw him shed. + </p> + <p> + “I have hope for papa yet,” she said to herself, as she was about to enter + the drawing-room; “I never thought I loved him so much as I find I do + now.” + </p> + <p> + On advancing into the room, for an instant's time she seemed confused; her + confusion, however, soon became surprise—amazement, when Dean + Palmer, taking our friend the stranger by the hand, led him toward her, + exclaiming, “Allow me, Miss Gourlay, to have the honor of presenting to + you Lord Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Dunroe!” exclaimed Lucy, in her turn, looking aghast with + astonishment. “What is this, sir—what means this, gentlemen? This + house, pray recollect, is a house of death and of suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the truth, Miss Gourlay,” replied the Dean. “Here stands the + veritable Lord Dunroe, whose father is now the earl of Cullamore.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, I don't understand this.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very easily understood, however, Miss Gourlay. This gentleman's + father was the late Earl's brother; and he being now dead, his son here + inherits the title of Lord Dunroe.” + </p> + <p> + “But the late Earl's son?” + </p> + <p> + “Has no claim to the title, Miss Gourlay. His lordship here will give you + the particulars at leisure, and on a more befitting occasion. I saw the + late Earl to-day, not long before his death. He was calm, resigned, and + full of that Christian hope which makes the death of the righteous so + beautiful. He was not, indeed, without sorrow; but it was soothed by his + confidence in the mercy of God, and his belief in the necessity and wisdom + of sorrow and affliction to purify and exalt the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “And now, Lucy,” said the stranger—for so we shall call him still—taking + her hand in his, “I trust that all obstacles between our union are removed + at last. Our love has been strongly tested, and you especially have + suffered much. Your trust in Providence, however, like that of Lady + Gourlay, has not been in vain; and as for me, I learned much, and I hope + to learn more, from your great and noble example. I concealed my name for + many reasons: partly from delicacy to my uncle, the late Earl, and his + family; and I was partly forced to do it, in consequence of an + apprehension that I had killed a nobleman in a hasty duel. He was not + killed, however, thank God; nor was his wound so dangerous as it looked at + first; neither was I aware until afterwards that the individual who forced + me into it was my own cousin Dunroe. It would have been very inconvenient + to me to have been apprehended and probably cast into prison at a time + when I had so many interests to look after; and, indeed, not the least of + my motives was the fear of precipitating your father's enmity against Lady + Gourlay's son, by discovering that I, who am her nephew, should have been + seen about the town of Ballytrain, where, when a boy, I had spent a good + deal of my early life. Had he known my name, he would have easily + suspected my object. Your mother was aware of my design in coming to + Ireland; but as I knew the risk of involving my uncle's children, and the + good old man's reputation besides, in a mesh of public scandal at a time + when I did not feel certain of being able to establish my claims, or + rather my father's, for I myself was indifferent to them, I resolved to + keep as quiet as possible, and not to disclose myself even to you until + necessity should compel me.” + </p> + <p> + Much more conversation ensued in connection with matters in which our + lovers felt more or less interest. At length the gentlemen rose to go + away, when Gillespie thrust a face of horror into the door, and exclaimed, + bolting, as he spoke, behind the Dean, “O, gentlemen, for God's sake, save + me! I'll confess and acknowledge everything.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Sir?” asked the Dean. + </p> + <p> + “The dead man, sir; he's sitting up in the bed; and I know what he's come + back for. You're a parson, sir, and, for heaven's sake, stand between him + and me.” + </p> + <p> + On proceeding to the room where the baronet's son had been laid out, they + found him sitting, certainly, on the bedside, wondering at the habiliments + of death which were about him. That which all had supposed to have been + death, was only a fit of catalepsy, brought on him by the appearance of + his father, who had, on more than one occasion, left a terrible impress of + himself upon his mind, and who, he had been informed some years before, + was the cause of all his sufferings. Even at the sight of Lucy herself, he + had been deeply agitated, although he could not tell why. He was + immediately attended to, a physician sent for, and poor Lucy felt an + elevation of heart and spirits which she had not experienced for many a + long day. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not go,” she said to her lover and the Dean, “until I communicate + to papa this twofold intelligence of delight; your strange good fortune, + and the resurrection, I may term it, of my brother. The very object—the + great engrossing object of papa's life and ambition gained in so wonderful + a way! Do, pray, gentlemen, remain for a few minutes until I see him. O, + what delight, what ecstasy will it not give him!” + </p> + <p> + She accordingly went up stairs, slowly it is true, for she was weak; and + nothing further was heard except one wild and fearful scream, whose sharp + tones penetrated through the whole house. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” exclaimed Lord Dunroe, “here is evil. Goodness me!—it is Miss + Gourlay's voice; I know it. Let us go up; I fear something is wrong with + her father.” + </p> + <p> + They accordingly sought the baronet's apartment, attended by the servants, + whom Lucy's wild scream had alarmed, and brought also toward the same + direction. On entering the room, the body of Lucy was found lying beside, + or rather across that of her father, whom, on removing her, they found to + be dead. Beside him lay a little phial, on which there was no label, but + the small portion of liquid that was found in it was clear and colorless + as water. It was prussic acid. Lucy was immediately removed, and committed + to the care of Alley Mahon and some of the other females, and the body of + the baronet was raised and placed upon his own bed. The Dean and Lord + Dunroe looked upon his lifeless but stern features with a feeling of awe. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” exclaimed the good Dean, “and is it thus he has gone to his great + account? We shall not follow his spirit into another life; but it is + miserable to reflect that one hour's patience might have saved him to the + world and to God, and showed him, after all, that the great object of his + life had been accomplished. Blind and impatient reasoner!—what has + he done?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dunroe, looking on him with a feeling of profound + melancholy; “there he lies—quiet enough now—the tumults of his + strong spirit are over forever. That terrible heart is still at last—that + fiery pulse will beat no more!” + </p> + <p> + We have now very little to state which our readers may not anticipate. + Lucy and Lady Emily, each made happy in the great object of woman's heart—love, + only exchanged residences. + </p> + <p> + Lucy's life was a long and bountiful blessing to her fellow-creatures. Her + feelings were never contracted within the narrow circle of her own class, + but embraced the great one of general humanity. She acted upon the noble + principle of receiving from God the ample gifts of wealth and position, + not for the purpose of wasting them in expensive and selfish enjoyments, + but for that of causing them to diffuse among her fellow-creatures the + greatest possible portion of happiness. This she considered her high + destination, and well and nobly she fulfilled it in this, the great and + true purpose of life, her husband and she went heart-in-heart, + hand-in-hand; nor were Sir Edward Gourlay, and his kind and gentle Emily, + far behind them in all their good-will and good works. + </p> + <p> + Lord Dunroe, having no strength of character to check his profligate + impulses, was, in the course of some years, thrown off by all his high + connections, and reduced to great indigence. Norton's notion of his + character was correct. The society of that treacherous sharper was + necessary to him, and in some time after they were reconciled. Norton + ultimately became driver of a celebrated mail-coach on the great York + road, and the other, its guard; thus resolving, as it would seem, to keep + the whip-hand of the weak and foolish nobleman in every position of life. + Several of our English readers may remember them, for they were both + remarkable characters, and great favorites with the public. + </p> + <p> + Dandy Dulcimer and Alley followed the example of their master and + mistress, and were amply provided for by their friends, with whom they + lived in confidential intimacy for the greater portion of their lives. + </p> + <p> + Thomas Corbet, his sister, and her son, disappeared; and it was supposed + that they went to America. + </p> + <p> + M'Bride, in a short time after the close of our narrative, took a relish + for foreign travel, and resolved to visit a certain bay of botanical + celebrity not far from the antipodes. That he might accomplish this point + with as little difficulty as possible, he asked a gentleman one evening + for the loan of his watch and purse; a circumstance which so much tickled + the fancy of a certain facetious judge of witty memory, that, on hearing a + full account of the transaction, he so far and successfully interfered + with the government as to get his expenses during the journey defrayed by + his Majesty himself. His last place of residence in this country was a + very magnificent one near Kilmainham, where he led a private and secluded + life, occasionally devoting' himself to the progress of machinery in his + hours of recreation, but uniformly declining to take country exercise. + </p> + <p> + Poor Trailcudgel was restored to his farm; and Lucy's brother lived with + her for many years, won back by her affection and kindness to the perfect + use of his reason; and it was well known that her children, boys and + girls, were all very fond of Uncle Thomas. + </p> + <p> + Old Corbet took to devotion, became very religious, and lost in temper, + which was never good, as much as he seemed to gain by penitence. He died + suddenly from a fit of paralysis, brought on by the loss of a thirty + shilling note, which was stolen from his till by Mrs. M'Bride. + </p> + <p> + On the occasion of Lucy's marriage with her lover, Father M'Mahon, who was + invited to a double wedding—both Sir Edward and Dunroe being married + on the same day—rode all the way to Dublin upon Freney the Robber, + in order that his friend might see the new saddle upon Freney, and the + priest himself upon the new saddle. Mr. Briney was also of the party, and + never was his round rosy face and comic rolling eye more replete with + humor and enjoyment; and as a reward for his integrity, as well as for the + ability with which he assisted the stranger, we may as well mention that + he was made Law Agent to both properties—a recompense which he well + deserved. We need scarcely say that old Sam and Beck were also there; that + their healths were drunk, and that old Sam told them how there was nothing + more plain than that there never was such a wife in existence as his Beck, + and that Providence all through intended Ned to be restored to his own—he, + old Sam, always acting in this instance as Adjutant under Providence. It + was clear, he said—quite evident—everything the work of + Providence on the one hand, and on the other, <i>“all the heart of man!”</i> + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles +Of Ballytrain, by William Carleton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK BARONET *** + +***** This file should be named 16003-h.htm or 16003-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/0/0/16003/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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